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IVERSITY  OF  CAL  FORM  A   SAN  D  EG 


3  1822  00200  0347 


ON  THE  WARPATH.    Illustrated. 

THE   QUEST  OF  THE   FISH-DOG  SKIN. 

Illustrated. 

SINOPAH.  THE  INDIAN  BOY.    Illustrated. 
WITH  THE  INDIANS    IN  THE    ROCKIES. 

Illustrated. 
MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN.     Illustrated. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

BOSTON  AND  New  YORK 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 

LA  JOLLA.  CALIFORNIA 


My  Life  as  an  Indian 

The  Story  of  a  Red  Woman  and 

a  White  Man  in  the  Lodges 

of  the  Blackfeet 

BY 

J.  W.   SCHULTZ 


Illuitrattd  from   photographi, 
mostly  by  Georgt  Bird  Grinntll 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

rtbe  prcs?  Cambridge 


Copyright,  1906,  1907,  by 
Forest  and  Stream  Publishing  Company 


All  rights  reserved, 

including  that  of  translation  into  foreign  langua^t, 
including  the  Scandinavian 


EDITORIAL  NOTE 

In  this  account  of  his  long  residence  with  the  Blackfeet,  Mr. 
Schultz  has  given  us  a  remarkable  story.  It  is  an  animated 
and  vivid  picture  of  Indian  life.  The  scene  is  on  the  plains  in 
the  old  days,  in  the  picturesque  period  when  the  tribe  lived  in  a 
primitive  way,  subsisting  on  the  buffalo  and  at  war  with  hostile 
neighbours.  It  is  a  true  history  and  not  romance,  yet  abounds 
in  romantic  incident.  In  its  absolute  truthfulness  lies  its  value. 

The  book  has  extraordinary  interest  as  a  human  document. 
It  is  a  study  of  human  nature  in  red.  The  author  has  pene- 
trated the  veil  of  racial  indifference  and  misunderstanding 
and  has  got  close  to  the  heart  of  the  people  about  whom  he 
writes.  Such  an  intimate  revelation  of  the  domestic  life  of  the 
Indians  has  never  before  been  written.  The  sympathetic  in- 
sight everywhere  evident  is  everywhere  convincing.  We  feel 
that  the  men  and  the  women  portrayed  are  men  and  women 
of  actual  living  existence.  And  while  in  the  lodges  on  the 
Marias  the  elemental  passions  have  fuller  and  franker  sway,  we 
recognise  in  the  Blackfoot  as  here  revealed  a  creature  of  common 
humanity  like  our  own.  His  are  the  same  loves  and  hates  and 
hopes  and  fears.  The  motives  which  move  him  are  those  which 
move  us.  The  Indian  is  the  white  man  without  the  veneer  of 
civilisation. 

The  chapters  of  this  volume  were  published  serially  in 
"Forest  and  Stream"  under  the  title  "In  the  Lodges  of  the 
Blackfeet"  and  over  the  pseudonym  W.  B.  Anderson.  The 
title  page  now  bears  the  author's  real  name.  Not  only  is  the 
story  a  true  one,  but  many  of  the  characters  still  live,  though 
to-day  under  conditions  as  different  as  though  centuries  had 
intervened.  FATHER  PRANDO  died  in  the  year  1906. 

GEO.   BIRD  GRINNELL. 


CONTENTS 


I  FORT  BENTON             .         .         .         .  3 

II  THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER         .  18 

III  THE  TRAGEDY  OP  THE  MARIAS     .          .  36 

IV  A  WAR  TRIP  FOR  HORSES         .         .  47 
V  DAYS  WITH  THE  GAME          •          •          •  59 

VI  THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN    .  66 

VII  A  WHITE  BUFFALO     ....  79 

VIII  A  WINTER  ON  THE  MARIAS       .          .  89 

IX  I  HAVE  A  LODGE  OF  MY  OWN      .         •  97 

X  THE  KILLING  OF  A  BEAR     .         .         .  105 

XI  THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY        .         .         .116 

XII  THE  GREAT  RACE  ....  134 

XIII  THE  SNAKE  WOMAN  ....  142 

XIV  THE  SNAKE  WOMAN'S  QUEST  .         .  152 
XV  I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  .          .          -157 

XVI  THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  .         .  170 

XVII  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS    .  188 

XVIII  A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  .         . 


X  CONTENTS— ContinutJ 

CHATTIB  FA01 

XIX  NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING         .  .          222 

XX  THE  ATTACK  ON  THE  HUNTERS  .  239 

XXI  NEVER-LAUGHS  GOES  EAST      .  .     247 

XXII  THE  WAR  TRIP  OF  QUEER  PERSON  .     256 

XXIII  THE  PIEGANS  MOVE  IN          .  267 

XXIV  A  WOLVERINE'S  MEDICINB        .  .-    272 
XXV  LITTLE  DEER'S  END     .         .  .         279 

XXVI  THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND  ...     288 

XXVII  THE  STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  .          302 

XXVIII  DIANA'S  MARRIAGE          .          .  .319 

XXIX  A  GAME  OF  FATE         .         <  .         335 

XXX  TRADE,  HUNT  AND  WAR  PARTY  ;     348 

XXXI  NAT-AH'-KI'S  RIDE       .-         .  .          355 

XXXII  CURBING  THE  WANDERERS          .  .    366 

XXXIII  CREES  AND  RED  RIVERS        .  .         376 

XXXIV  THE  LAST  OF  THE  BUFFALO      .  v.     386 

XXXV  THE  "  WINTER  OF  DEATH  "  .  .         394 

XXXVI  THE  "  BLACK  ROBE'S  HELP  "   .  .     403 

XXXVII  LATER  YEARS     .  .411 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 

NAT-AH'-KI — A  Blackfoot  Indian  girl  who  becomes  the  wife  of  the 
AUTHOR  ;  a  cheerful  and  sweet-tempered  woman  about  whom 
the  interest  of  the  story  centres.  The  book's  finest  character. 

THE  OROW  WOMAN — An  Arickaree  captured  long  ago  by  the 
Crows  and  later  taken  from  them  by  the  Bloods. 

MRS.  BERRY — A  Mandan  woman,  wife  of  an  old  time  Indian 
trader,  mother  of  BERRY  and  friend  of  the  CROW  WOMAN; 
learned  in  the  ancient  lore  of  her  tribe. 

DIANA — An  orphan  Indian  girl,  educated  by  ASHTON;  a  noble 
and  brilliant  woman,  who  meets  a  tragic  death. 

THE  AUTHOR — At  the  age  of  twenty  goes  west  to  Montana 
Territory  in  search  of  wild  life  and  adventure,  and  finds 
both  with  the  Piegan  Blackfeet;  he  marries  into  the  tribe 
and  lives  with  them  for  many  years;  goes  with  them  on 
the  hunt,  and  on  the  warpath;  joins  in  their  religious  cere- 
monies; and  as  a  squawman  lives  the  Indian  life. 

BERRY — A  mixed-blood  Indian  trader,  born  on  the  upper  Mis- 
souri River;  speaks  half  a  dozen  Indian  languages,  and  is 
very  much  at  home  in  Indian  camps;  an  adept  at  all  the 
tricks  of  the  Indian  trade. 

SORREL  HORSE — White  man,  trapper,  and  Indian  trader;  has 
an  Indian  family. 

ASHTON — A  young  white  man  from  the  East  who  carries  about 
with  him  a  secret  sorrow  but  finds  peace  at  last. 

FATHER  PRANDO — A  devoted  Jesuit  Priest  whose  life  is  given  to 
mission  work  among  the  Indians.  The  Blackfeet's  friend, 
comforter,  and  helper  during  the  terrible  Famine  Year. 

RISING  WOLF — Early  Hudson  Bay  man,  typical  trapper, 
trader,  and  interpreter  of  the  romantic  days  of  the  early 
fur-trading  period. 

HEAVY  BREAST — A  Blackfoot  partisan,  leader  of  war  parties, 
the  possessor  of  a  medicine  pipe. 

WOLVERINE — A  Blackfoot,  brother-in-law  of  SORREL  HORSE, 
whom  the  AUTHOR  helped  to  steal  his  wife. 

w  1  Blackfeet,  close  friends  and  hunt- 

V      ing  and  war  companions  of  the 
TALKS-WITH-THE-BUFFALO    I       .  ° 

AUTHOR. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Fort  Benton,  from  a  photograph  taken  in  the 

early  eighties  Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

"  They  were  of  much  pride  and  dignity;  that 

one  could  see  at  a  glance  "  14 

"  She  came  out  for  an  armful  of  wood  "  20 
"  Where  the  Rockies  rise  so  abruptly  from  the 

general  level  of  the  prairie  "  38 

"That  great  camp  of  seven  hundred  lodges  "  -  42 
"I  attended  various  religious  ceremonies  "  -  -  46 

Framework  of  a  sweat  lodge  -  •  -  48 
"  When  going  into  battle,  if  there  was  time,  the 

war  clothes  would  be  donned  "  52 
"  A  plainsman  always  said  '  My  woman  '  when 

speaking  of  his  Indian  better  half  "  -  98 
"  '  This  morning  Lone  Elk  takes  out  his  sacred 

pipe  ....  Will  you  not  come  ?  "  118 
"  And  many  a  present  was  given  them  for 

themselves  and  for  their  chief"  204 
"  Queer  Person "-  -  -  258 

"  We  rode  double  on  the  other  horse  "  -  276 
"  '  I  preferred  to  die  rather  than  have  my 

woman  go  afoot '"  -  -  308 

"  We  broke  camp  early  and  started  homeward  "  368 

The  Medicine  Lodge  -  -  392 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


CHAPTER  I 

PORT   BENTON 

WIDE,  brown  plains,  distant,  slender,  flat-topped 
buttes;  still  more  distant  giant  mountains, 
blue-sided,  sharp-peaked,  snow-capped;  odour  of  sage 
and  smoke  of  camp  fire;  thunder  of  ten  thousand 
buffalo  hoofs  over  the  hard,  dry  ground;  long-drawn, 
melancholy  howl  of  wolves  breaking  the  silence  of 
night,  how  I  loved  you  all! 

I  am  in  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  dried  and  shrivelled, 
about  to  fall  and  become  one  with  my  millions  of  pred- 
ecessors. Here  I  sit,  by  the  fireplace  in  winter,  and  out 
on  the  veranda  when  the  days  are  warm,  unable  to  do 
anything  except  live  over  in  memory  the  stirring  years 
I  passed  upon  the  frontier.  My  thoughts  are  always  of 
those  days;  days  before  the  accursed  railroads  and  the 
hordes  of  settlers  they  brought  swept  us  all,  Indians  and 
frontiersmen  and  buffalo,  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  so 
to  speak. 

The  love  of  wild  life  and  adventure  was  born  in  me, 
yet  I  must  have  inherited  it  from  some  remote  ancestor, 
for  all  my  near  ones  were  staid,  devout  people.  How 
I  hated  the  amenities  and  conventions  of  society;  from 
my  earliest  youth  I  was  happy  only  when  out  in  the 
great  forest  which  lay  to  the  north  of  my  home,  far 

3 


4  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

beyond  the  sound  of  church  and  school  bell, and  the  whis- 
tling locomotives.  My  visits  to  those  grand  old  woods 
were  necessarily  brief,  only  during  summer  and  winter 
vacations.  But  a  day  came  when  I  could  go 
where  and  when  I  chose,  and  one  warm  April  morning 
long  ago  I  left  St.  Louis  on  a  Missouri  River  steam- 
boat, bound  for  the  Far  West. 

The  Far  West!  Land  of  my  dreams  and  aspirations! 
I  had  read  and  re-read  Lewis  and  Clark's  "Journal," 
Catlin's  "Eight  Years,"  "The  Oregon  Trail,"  Fre- 
mont's expeditions;  at  last  I  was  to  see  some  of  the  land 
and  the  tribes  of  which  they  told.  The  sturdy  flat- 
bottom,  shallow-draft,  stern-wheel  boat  was  tied  to  the 
shore  every  evening  at  dusk,  resuming  her  way  at  day- 
light in  the  morning,  so  I  saw  every  foot  of  the  Mis- 
souri's shores,  2,600  miles,  which  lay  between  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  our  destination,  Fort  Benton,  at  the  head 
of  navigation.  I  saw  the  beautiful  groves  and  rolling 
green  slopes  of  the  lower  river,  the  weird  "bad  lands"  above 
them,  and  the  picturesque  cliffs  and  walls  of  sandstone, 
carved  into  all  sorts  of  fantastic  shapes  and  form  by 
wind  and  storm,  which  are  the  features  of  the  upper  por- 
tion of  the  navigable  part  of  the  river.  Also  I  saw 
various  tribes  of  Indians  encamped  upon  the  banks  of 
the  stream,  and  I  saw  more  game  than  I  had  thought 
ever  existed.  Great  herds  of  buffalo  swimming  the 
river  often  impeded  the  progress  of  the  boat.  Num- 
berless elk  and  deer  inhabited  the  groves  and  slopes  of 
the  valley.  On  the  open  bottoms  grazed  bands  of 
antelope,  and  there  were  bighorn  on  nearly  every  butte 
and  cliff  of  the  upper  river.  We  saw  many  grizzly  bears, 
and  wolves,  and  coyotes;  and  in  the  evenings,  when  all 
was  still  aboard,  the  beavers  played  and  splashed  along- 
side the  boat.  What  seemed  to  me  most  remarkable 


FORT  BENTON  5 

of  all,  was  the  vast  number  of  buffalo  we  passed.  All 
through  Dakota,  and  through  Montana  clear  to  Fort 
Benton,  they  were  daily  in  evidence  on  the  hills,  in  the 
bottoms,  swimming  the  river.  Hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  them,  drowned,  swollen,  in  all  stages  of  decomposition, 
lay  on  the  shallow  bars  where  the  current  had  cast  them, 
or  drifted  by  us  down  the  stream.  I  believe  that  the 
treacherous  river,  its  quicksands,  and  its  unevenly  frozen 
surface  in  winter,  played  as  great  havoc  with  the  herds 
as  did  the  Indian  tribes  living  along  its  course.  We 
passed  many  and  many  a  luckless  animal,  sometimes  a 
dozen  or  more  in  a  place,  standing  under  some  steep  bluff 
which  they  had  vainly  endeavoured  to  climb,  and  there 
they  were,  slowly  but  surely  sinking  down,  down  into 
the  tenacious  black  mud  or  sands,  until  finally  the  turbid 
water  would  flow  smoothly  on  over  their  lifeless  forms. 
One  would  naturally  think  that  animals  crossing  a  stream 
and  finding  themselves  under  a  high  cut  bank  would 
turn  out  again  into  the  stream  and  swim  down  until 
they  found  a  good  landing  place;  but  this  is  just  what 
the  buffalo,  in  many  cases,  did  not  do.  Having  once 
determined  to  go  to  a  certain  place,  they  made  a  bee- 
line  for  it ;  and,  as  in  the  case  of  those  we  saw  dead  and 
dying  under  the  cut  banks,  it  seemed  as  if  they  chose  to 
die  rather  than  to  make  a  detour  in  order  to  reach  their 
destination. 

After  we  entered  the  buffalo  country  there  were  many 
places  which  I  passed  with  regret ;  I  wanted  to  stop  off 
and  explore  them.  But  the  captain  of  the  boat  would 
say:  "Don't  get  impatient;  you  must  keep  on  to  Fort 
Benton;  that's  the  place  for  you,  for  there  you'll  meet 
traders  and  trappers  from  all  over  the  Northwest,  men 
you  can  rely  upon  and  travel  with,  and  be  reasonably 
safe.  Good  God,  boy,  suppose  I  should  set  you  ashore 


6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

here?  Why,  in  all  likelihood  you  wouldn't  keep  your 
scalp  two  days.  These  here  breaks  and  groves  shelter 
many  a  prowlin'  war  party.  Oh,  of  course,  you  don't 
see  "em,  but  they're  here  all  the  same." 

Foolish  "tenderfoot,"  innocent  "pilgrim"  that  I  was, 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  believe  that  I,  I  who  thought 
so  much  of  the  Indians,  would  live  with  them,  would 
learn  their  ways,  would  be  a  friend  to  them,  could  pos- 
sibly receive  any  harm  at  their  hands.  But  one  day, 
somewhere  between  the  Round  Butte  and  the  mouth  of 
the  Musselshell  River,  we  came  upon  a  ghastly  sight. 
On  a  shelving,  sandy  slope  of  shore,  by  a  still  smouldering 
fire  of  which  their  half-burned  skiff  formed  a  part,  lay 
the  remains  of  three  white  men.  I  say  remains  ad- 
visedly, for  they  had  been  scalped  and  literally  cut  to 
pieces,  their  heads  crushed  and  frightfully  battered, 
hands  and  feet  severed  and  thrown  promiscuously  about. 
We  stopped  and  buried  them,  and  it  is  needless  to  say 
that  I  did  not  again  ask  to  be  set  ashore. 

Ours  was  the  first  boat  to  arrive  at  Fort  Benton  that 
spring.  Long  before  we  came  in  sight  of  the  place  the 
inhabitants  had  seen  the  smoke  of  our  craft  and  made 
preparations  to  receive  us.  When  we  turned  the  bend 
and  neared  the  levee,  cannon  boomed,  flags  waved,  and 
the  entire  population  assembled  on  the  shore  to  greet  us. 
Foremost  in  the  throng  were  the  two  traders  who  had 
sometime  before  bought  out  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany, fort  and  all.  They  wore  suits  of  blue  broadcloth, 
their  long-tailed,  high-collared  coats  bright  with  brass 
buttons;  they  wore  white  shirts  and  stocks,  and  black 
cravats;  their  long  hair,  neatly  combed,  hung  down  to 
their  shoulders.  Beside  them  were  their  skilled  em- 
ployees— clerks,  tailor,  carpenter — and  they  wore  suits 
of  black  fustian,  also  brass-buttoned,  and  their  hair  was 


FORT  BENTON  7 

likewise  long,  and  they  wore  parfleche-soled  moccasins, 
gay  with  intricate  and  flowery  designs  of  cut  beads. 
Behind  these  prominent  personages  the  group  was  most 
picturesque;  here  were  the  French  employees,  mostly 
Creoles  from  St.  Louis  and  the  lower  Mississippi,  men  who 
had  passed  their  lives  in  the  employ  of  the  American 
Fur  Company,  and  had  cordelled  many  a  boat  up  the 
vast  distances  of  the  winding  Missouri.  These  men  wore 
the  black  fustian  capotes,  or  hooded  coats,  fustian  or 
buckskin  trousers  held  in  place  by  a  bright-hued  sash. 
Then  there  were  bull-whackers,  and  mule-skinners,  and 
independent  traders  and  trappers,  most  of  them  attired 
in  suits  of  plain  or  fringed  and  beaded  buckskin,  and 
nearly  all  of  them  had  knives  and  Colt's  powder  and  ball 
six-shooters  stuck  in  their  belts;  and  their  headgear, 
especially  that  of  the  traders  and  trappers,  was  home- 
made, being  generally  the  skin  of  a  kit  fox  roughly 
sewn  in  circular  form,  head  in  front  and  tail  hanging 
down  behind.  Back  of  the  whites  were  a  number  of 
Indians,  men  and  youths  from  a  near  by  camp,  and 
women  married  to  the  resident  and  visiting  whites.  I 
had  already  learned  from  what  I  had  seen  of  the  various 
tribes  on  our  way  up  the  river,  that  the  everyday  Indian 
of  the  plains  is  not  the  gorgeously  attired,  eagle  plume 
bedecked  creature  various  prints  and  written  descriptions 
had  led  me  to  believe  he  was.  Of  course,  all  of  them 
possessed  such  fancy  attire,  but  it  was  worn  only  on  state 
occasions.  Those  I  now  saw  wore  blanket  or  cow 
(buffalo)  leather  leggings,  plain  or  beaded  moccasins, 
calico  shirts,  and  either  blanket  or  cow-leather  toga. 
Most  of  them  were  bareheaded,  their  hair  neatly  braided, 
and  their  faces  were  painted  with  reddish-brown  ochre 
or  Chinese  vermilion.  Some  carried  a  bow  and  quiver  of 
arrows;  some  had  flint-lock  fukes,  a  few  the  more 


8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

modern  cap-lock  rifle.  The  women  wore  dresses  of  calico ; 
a  few  "wives"  of  the  traders  and  clerks  and  skilled 
labourers  even  wore  silk,  and  gold  chains  and  watches, 
and  all  had  the  inevitable  gorgeously  hued  and  fringed 
shawl  thrown  over  their  shoulders. 

At  one  glance  the  eye  could  take  in  the  whole  town, 
as  it  was  at  that  time.  There  was  the  great  rectangular 
adobe  fort,  with  bastions  mounting  cannon  at  each  cor- 
ner. A  short  distance  above  it  were  a  few  cabins,  built 
of  logs  or  adobe.  Back  of  these,  scattered  out  in  the 
long,  wide  flat-bottom,  was  camp  after  camp  of  trader 
and  trapper,  string  after  string  of  canvas-covered 
freighters'  wagons,  and  down  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
flat  were  several  hundred  lodges  of  Piegans.  All  this 
motley  crowd  had  been  assembling  for  days  and  weeks, 
impatiently  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  steamboats.  The 
supply  of  provisions  and  things  brought  up  by  the  boats 
the  previous  year  had  fallen  far  short  of  the  demand. 
There  was  no  tobacco  to  be  had  at  any  price.  Keno 
Bill,  who  ran  a  saloon  and  gambling  house,  was  the  only 
one  who  had  any  liquor,  and  that  was  alcohol  diluted 
with  water,  four  to  one.  He  sold  it  for  a  dollar  a  drink. 
There  was  no  flour,  no  sugar,  no  bacon  in  the  town,  but 
that  did  not  matter,  for  there  was  plenty  of  buffalo  and 
antelope  meat.  What  all  craved,  Indians  and  whites, 
was  the  fragrant  weed  and  the  flowing  bowl.  And 
here  it  was,  a  whole  steamboat  load,  together  with  a 
certain  amount  of  groceries;  no  wonder  cannon  boomed 
and  flags  waved,  and  the  population  cheered  when  the 
boat  hove  in  sight. 

I  went  ashore  and  put  up  at  the  Overland  Hotel, 
which  was  a  fair-sized  log  cabin  with  a  number  of  log- 
walled  additions.  For  dinner  we  had  boiled  buffalo 
boss  ribs,  bacon  and  beans,  "yeast  powder"  biscuit, 


FORT  BENTON  9 

coffee  with  sugar,  molasses,  and  stewed  dried  apples. 
The  regular  guests  scarcely  touched  the  meat,  but  the 
quantities  of  bread,  syrup,  and  dried  apples  they  stowed 
away  was  surprising. 

That  was  a  day  to  me,  a  pilgrim  fresh  from  the  East, 
from  the  "States,"  as  these  frontiersmen  called  it,  full 
of  interest.  After  dinner  I  went  back  to  the  boat  to 
see  about  my  luggage.  There  was  a  gray-bearded, 
long-haired  old  trapper  standing  on  the  shore  looking 
absently  out  over  the  water.  His  buckskin  trousers 
were  so  bagged  at  the  knees  that  he  seemed  to  be  in  the 
attitude  of  one  about  to  jump  out  into  the  stream.  To 
him  approached  a  fellow  passenger, a  hair-brained, windy, 
conceited  young  fellow  bound  for  the  mining  country, 
and  said,  looking  intently  at  the  aforesaid  baggy  knees, 
"Well,  old  man,  if  you're  going  to  jump,  why  don't  you 
jump,  instead  of  meditating  over  it  so  long?" 

He  of  the  buckskins  did  not  at  first  comprehend,  but 
following  the  questioner's  intent  stare  he  quickly  saw 
what  was  meant.  "Why,  you  pilgrim,"  he  replied, 
"jump  yourself."  And  instantly  grasping  the  youth 
by  the  legs  below  the  knees  he  heaved  him  out  into 
about  three  feet  of  water.  What  a  shout  of  laughter 
and  derision  arose  from  the  bystanders  when  the  ducked 
one  reappeared  and  came  gasping,  spluttering,  dripping 
ashore.  He  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  but 
hurried  on  board  to  the  seclusion  of  his  cabin,  and  we 
saw  him  no  more  until  he  pulled  out  on  the  stage  the 
next  morning. 

I  had  letters  of  introduction  to  the  firm  which  had 
bought  out  the  American  Fur  Company.  They  re- 
ceived me  kindly  and  one  of  them  took  me  around  in- 
troducing me  to  the  various  employees,  residents  of  the 
town,  and  to  several  visiting  traders  and  trappers. 


io  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Of  the  latter  I  met  one,  a  man  only  a  few  years 
than  myself,  who  I  was  told  was  the  most  successful 
and  daring  of  all  the  traders  of  the  plains.  He  spoke 
a  number  of  Indian  languages  perfectly,  and  was  at 
home  in  the  camps  of  any  of  the  surrounding  tribes. 
We  somehow  took  to  each  other  at  once,  and  I  passed 
the  balance  of  the  afternoon  in  his  company.  Event- 
ually we  became  great  friends.  He  still  lives;  and  as  I 
may  in  the  course  of  this  story  tell  some  of  the  things 
we  did  together,  for  which  we  are  now  both  truly  sorry, 
I  will  not  give  his  right  name.  The  Indians  called  him 
the  Berry;  and  as  Berry  he  shall  be  known  in  these 
chronicles  of  the  old  plains  life.  Tall,  lean,  long-armed 
and  slightly  stoop-shouldered,  he  was  not  a  fine  looking 
man,  but  what  splendidly  clear,  fearless  dark  brown 
eyes  he  had ;  eyes  that  could  beam  with  the  kindly  good 
nature  of  those  of  a  child,  or  fairly  flash  fire  when  he 
was  aroused  to  anger. 

It  was  not  half  an  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  steam- 
boat, before  whisky  dropped  to  the  normal  price  of 
"two  bits"  per  drink,  and  tobacco  to  $2  per  pound. 
The  white  men,  with  few  exceptions,  hied  to  the  saloons 
to  drink,  and  smoke,  and  gamble.  Some  hurried  to 
load  their  wagons  with  sundry  kegs  and  make  for  the 
Indian  camp  at  the  lower  end  of  the  bottom,  and  others 
after  loading  ran  out  on  the  Teton  as  fast  as  their  horses 
could  go.  The  Indians  had  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
prime  buffalo  robes,  and  they  wanted  whisky.  They 
got  it.  By  the  time  night  closed  in,  the  single  street 
was  full  of  them  charging  up  and  down  on  their  pinto 
ponies,  singing,  yelling,  recklessly  firing  their  guns,  and 
vociferously  calling,  so  I  was  told,  for  more  liquor. 
There  was  a  brisk  trade  that  night  at  the  rear  doors  of 
the  saloons.  An  Indian  would  pass  in  a  good  head  and 


FORT  BENTON  n 

tail  buffalo  robe  and  receive  for  it  two  and  even  three 
bottles  of  liquor.  He  might  just  as  well  have  walked 
boldly  in  at  the  front  door  and  traded  for  it  over  the  bar, 
I  thought,  but  I  learned  that  there  was  a  United  States 
marshal  somewhere  in  the  Territory,  and  that  there  was 
no  telling  when  he  would  turn  up. 

In  the  brightly  lighted  saloons  the  tables  were  crowded 
by  the  resident  and  temporary  population,  playing  stud 
and  draw  poker,  and  the  more  popular  game  of  faro. 
I  will  say  for  the  games  as  played  in  those  wide  open  and 
lawless  days  that  they  were  perfectly  fair.  Many  and 
many  a  time  I  have  seen  the  faro  bank  broken,  cleaned 
out  of  its  last  dollar  by  lucky  players.  You  never  hear 
of  that  being  done  in  the  "clubs,"  the  exclusive  gambling 
dens  of  to-day.  The  men  who  ran  games  on  the  frontier 
were  satisfied  with  their  legitimate  percentage,  and  they 
did  well.  The  professionals  of  to-day,  be  it  in  any  town 
or  city  where  gambling  is  prohibited,  with  marked 
cards,  false-bottom  faro  boxes,  and  various  other  devices 
take  the  players'  all. 

I  never  gambled;  not  that  I  was  too  good  to  do  so, 
but  somehow  I  never  could  see  any  fun  in  games  of 
chance.  Fairly  as  they  were  conducted  there  was  al- 
ways more  or  less  quarreling  over  them.  Men  a  half  or 
two-thirds  full  of  liquor  are  prone  to  imagine  things  and 
do  what  they  would  recoil  from  when  sober;  and,  if  you 
take  notice,  you  will  find  that,  as  a  rule,  those  who  gam- 
ble are  generally  pretty  heavy  drinkers.  Somehow  the 
two  run  together.  The  professional  may  drink  also, 
but  seldom  when  he  is  playing.  That  is  why  he  wears 
broadcloth  and  diamonds  and  massive  gold  watch 
chains ;  he  keeps  cool  and  rakes  in  the  drunken  plunger's 
coin.  In  Keno  Bill's  place  that  evening  I  was  looking 
on  at  a  game  of  faro.  One  of  those  bucking  it  was  a  tall, 


xs  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

rough,  bewhiskered  bull- whacker,  full  of  whisky  and 
quarrelsome,  and  he  was  steadily  losing.  He  placed  a 
blue  chip,  $2.50,  on  the  nine  spot,  and  coppered  it;  that 
is,  he  placed  a  small  marker  upon  it  to  signify  that  it 
would  lose;  but  when  the  card  came  it  won,  and  the 
dealer  flicked  off  the  marker  and  took  in  the  chip. 

"Here,  you,"  cried  the  bull- whacker.  "What  you 
doin'?  Give  me  back  that  chip  and  another  one  with  it. 
Don't  you  see  that  the  nine  won?" 

"Of  course  it  won,"  the  dealer  replied,  "but  you  had 
your  bet  coppered." 

"You're  a  liar!"  shouted  the  bull- whacker,  reaching 
for  his  revolver  and  starting  to  rise  from  his  seat. 

I  saw  the  dealer  raising  his  weapon,  and  at  the  same 
instant  Berry,  crying  out,  "Down!  Down!"  dragged 
me  with  him  to  the  floor;  everyone  else  in  the  room  who 
could  not  immediately  get  out  of  the  door  also  dropped 
prone  to  the  floor.  There  were  some  shots,  fired  so 
quickly  that  one  could  not  count  them;  then  there  was 
a  short  dense  silence,  broken  by  a  gasping,  gurgling 
groan.  Men  shuffled  to  their  feet  and  hurried  over  to 
the  smoke-enveloped  corner.  The  bull-whacker,  with 
three  bullet  holes  in  his  bosom,  lay  back  in  the  chair  from 
which  he  had  attempted  to  arise,  quite  dead;  the  faro 
dealer,  white,  but  apparently  calm,  stood  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  table  stanching  with  his  handkerchief 
the  blood  from  the  nasty  furrow  a  bullet  had  ploughed 
in  his  right  cheek. 

"Close  call  for  you,  Tom,"  said  some  one. 

"He  sure  branded  me,"  the  dealer  grimly  replied. 

"Who  was  he?  What  outfit  was  he  with?"  was 
asked. 

"Don't  know  what  his  name  was,"  said  Keno  Bill 
"but  I  believe  he  rolled  in  with  Missouri  Jeff's  bull-train 


FORT  BENTON  13 

Let's  pack  him  into  the  back  room,  boys,  and  I'll  get 
word  to  his  friends  to  come  an'  plant  him." 

This  was  done;  the  blood-stained  chair  was  also  re- 
moved, ashes  were  scattered  on  some  dark  spots  staining 
the  floor,  and  after  all  hands  had  taken  a  drink  on  the 
house  the  games  were  resumed.  Berry  and  I  strolled 
out  of  the  place.  I  felt  queer;  rather  shaky  in  the  legs 
and  sick  at  the  stomach.  I  had  never  before  seen  a 
man  killed;  for  that  matter,  I  had  never  even  seen  two 
men  in  a  fist  fight.  I  could  not  forget  that  terrible 
death  gurgle,  nor  the  sight  of  the  dead  man's  distorted 
face  and  staring  eyes. 

"Awful,  wasn't  it?"     I  remarked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Berry  replied, "the  fish  got  what 
he  was  looking  for ;  these  bad  men  always  do,  sooner  or 
later.  He  started  first  to  pull  his  gun,  but  he  was  a  little 
too  slow." 

"And  what  next?"  I  asked.  "Will  not  the  dealer 
be  arrested  ?  Will  not  we  be  subpoenaed  as  witnesses  in 
the  case?" 

"Who  will  arrest  him?"  my  friend  queried  in  turn. 
"There  are  no  police,  nor  officers  of  the  law  here  of  any 
description." 

"Why — why,  how,  then,  with  so  many  desperate 
characters  as  you  evidently  have  here,  how  do  you 
manage  to  preserve  any  form  of  law  and  order?" 

"Seven — eleven — seventy-seven,"  Berry  sententiously 
replied. 

"Seven — eleven — seventy-seven,"  I  mechanically  re- 
peated. ' '  What  is  that  ? ' ' 

"That  means  the  Vigilance  Committee.  You  don't 
know  exactly  who  they  are,  but  you  may  be  sure  that 
they  are  representative  men  who  stand  for  law  and  order; 
they  are  more  feared  by  criminals  than  are  the  courts 


14  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

and  prisons  of  the  East,  for  they  always  hang  a  mur- 
derer or  robber.  Another  thing;  do  not  think  that  the 
men  you  saw  sitting  at  the  tables  in  Keno  Bill's  place  are, 
as  you  termed  them,  desperate  characters.  True,  they 
gamble  some,  and  drink  some,  but  on  the  whole  they 
are  honest,  fearless,  kind-hearted  fellows,  ready  to  stay 
with  a  friend  to  the  end  in  a  just  cause,  and  to  give  their 
last  dollar  to  one  in  need.  But  come,  I  see  this  little 
shooting  affair  has  sort  of  unnerved  you.  I'll  show 
you  something  a  little  more  cheerful." 

We  went  on  up  the  street  to  a  fair-sized  adobe  cabin. 
Through  the  open  doors  and  windows  came  the  strains 
of  a  violin  and  concertina,  and  the  air  was  as  lively  a 
one  as  I  ever  had  heard.  Many  and  many  a  time  I 
heard  it  in  after  years,  that  and  its  companion  dance 
pieces,  music  that  had  crossed  the  seas  in  the  ships  of 
Louis  XV.,  and,  taught  by  father  to  son  for  generations, 
by  ear,  had  been  played  by  the  voyageurs  up  the  im- 
mense length  of  the  Mississippi  and  the  Missouri,  to  be- 
come at  last  the  popular  music  of  the  American  in  the 
Far  Northwest. 

We  arrived  at  the  open  doorway  and  looked  in.  "  Hello, 
Berry;  come  in,  old  boy,"  and  "Bon  soir,  Mons.  Bern, 
bon  soir;  entrez!  entrez! "  some  of  the  dancers  shouted; 
we  went  in  and  took  seats  on  a  bench  against  the  wall. 
All  of  the  females  in  the  place  were  Indians,  and  for  that 
matter  they  were  the  only  women  at  that  time  in  all 
Montana,  barring  a  few  white  hurdy-gurdy  girls  at  the 
mines  of  Helena  and  Virginia  City,  and  of  the  latter 
the  less  said  the  better. 

These  Indian  women,  as  I  had  remarked  in  the  morn- 
ing when  I  saw  some  of  them  on  the  levee,  were  comely, 
of  good  figure  and  height,  and  neatly  dressed,  even  if 
they  were  corsetless  and  wore  moccasins;  far  different 


FORT  BENTON  15 

indeed  from  the  squat,  broad,  dark  natives  of  the  Eastern 
forests  I  had  seen.  And  they  were  of  much  pride  and 
dignity ;  that  one  could  see  at  a  glance.  And  yet  they 
were  what  might  be  termed  jolly,  chattering  and  laugh- 
ing like  so  many  white  women.  That  surprised  me. 
I  had  read  that  Indians  were  a  taciturn,  a  gloomy,  silent 
people,  seldom  smiling,  to  say  nothing  of  laughing  and 
joking  with  the  freedom  and  abandon  of  so  many 
children. 

"This,"  Berry  told  me,  "is  a  traders'  and  trappers' 
dance.  The  owner  of  the  house  is  not  at  home,  or  I 
would  introduce  you  to  him.  As  to  the  others" — with 
a  sweep  of  his  hand — "they're  too  busy  just  now  for 
any  introduction  ceremony.  I  can't  introduce  you  to 
the  women,  for  they  do  not  speak  English.  However, 
you  must  dance  with  some  of  them." 

"But,  if  they  do  not  speak  our  language,  how  am  I 
to  ask  them  to  dance  with  me?" 

"You  will  walk  up  to  one  of  them,  the  one  you  choose, 
and  say:  'Ki-tak-stai  pes-ka' — will  you  dance?" 

I  never  was  what  you  may  call  bashful  or  diffident. 
A  quadrille  had  just  ended.  I  boldly  walked  up  to  the 
nearest  woman,  repeating  the  words  over  and  over  that 
I  might  not  forget  them,  bowed  politely,  and  said, 
"Ki-tak-stai  pes-ka?" 

The  woman  laughed,  nodded  her  head,  replied,  "Ah," 
which  I  later  learned  was  yes,  and  extended  her  hand; 
I  took  it  and  led  her  to  a  place  for  another  quadrille  just 
forming.  While  we  were  waiting  she  spoke  to  me 
several  times,  but  I  could  only  shake  my  head  and  say: 
"I  do  not  understand."  Whereupon  she  would  laugh 
merrily  and  say  a  lot  more  in  her  language  to  her  neigh- 
bour, another  comely  young  woman,  who  would  also 
laugh  and  look  at  me  with  amusement  in  her  eyes.  I 


x6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

began  to  feel  embarrassed;  I'm  not  sure  that  I  did  not 
blush. 

The  music  struck  up  and  I  found  that  my  partner 
was  a  light  and  graceful  dancer.  I  forgot  my  embar- 
rassment and  enjoyed  the  quadrille,  my  strange  partner, 
the  strange  music,  and  strange  surroundings  immensely. 
And  how  those  long-haired,  buckskin-clad,  moccasined 
plainsmen  did  caper  and  cut  pigeon  wings,  and  double 
shuffle,  and  leap  and  swing  in  the  air!  I  wondered  if 
I  could  ever,  since  that  seemed  to  be  the  style,  learn  to 
do  likewise.  I  determined  to  try  it  anyhow,  but 
privately  at  first. 

The  quadrille  ended,  I  started  to  lead  my  partner  to  a 
seat,  but  instead  she  led  me  over  to  Berry,  who  had  also 
been  dancing,  and  spoke  rapidly  to  him  for  a  moment. 

"This,"  said  he  to  me,  "is  Mrs.  Sorrel  Horse.  (Her 
husband's  Indian  name.)  She  invites  us  to  accompany 
her  and  her  husband  home  and  have  a  little  feast." 

Of  course  we  accepted  and  after  a  few  more  dances 
departed.  I  had  been  introduced  to  Sorrel  Horse.  He 
was  a  very  tall,  slender  man,  sorrel  haired,  sorrel  whisk- 
ered, blue  eyed;  a  man,  as  I  afterward  learned,  of  ex- 
tremely happy  temperament  under  the  most  adverse 
conditions,  a  sincere  and  self-sacrificing  friend  to  those 
he  liked,  but  a  terror  to  those  who  attempted  to  wrong 
him. 

Sorrel  Horse's  home  was  a  fine  large  Indian  lodge  of 
eighteen  skins,  set  up  beside  his  two  canvas-covered 
wagons  near  the  river's  bank.  His  wife  built  a  little 
fire,  made  some  tea,  and  presently  set  before  us  the 
steaming  beverage  with  some  Dutch  oven  baked  bis- 
cuits, broiled  buffalo  tongue,  and  stewed  bull  berries. 
We  heartily  enjoyed  the  meal,  and  I  was  especially  taken 
with  the  luxurious  comfort  of  the  lodge ;  the  soft  buffalo 


FORT  BENTON  17 

robe  couch  upon  which  we  sat,  the  sloping  willow  back 
rests  at  each  end  of  it,  the  cheerful  little  fire  in  the  cen- 
tre, the  oddly  shaped,  fringed  and  painted  parfleches  in 
which  Madam  Sorrel  Horse  kept  her  provisions  and  her 
various  belongings.  It  was  all  very  new  and  very  de- 
lightful to  me,  and  when  after  a  smoke  and  a  chat, 
Sorrel  Horse  said:  "You  had  better  camp  here  for  the 
night,  boys,"  my  happiness  was  complete.  We  went 
to  sleep  on  the  soft  couch  covered  with  soft  blankets 
and  listening  to  the  soft  murmur  of  the  river's  current. 
This,  my  first  day  on  the  plains,  had  been,  I  thought, 
truly  eventful, 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER 

IT  WAS  agreed  that  I  should  join  Berry  in  the  au- 
tumn, when  he  would  begin  the  season's  trade  with 
the  Indians.  He  owned  a  large  bull-train,  with  which 
he  hauled  freight  from  Fort  Benton  to  the  mining  camps 
in  summer,  finding  in  that  much  more  profit  than  in 
trading  for  the  deer,  elk,  and  antelope  skins,  which  were 
about  the  only  things  of  value  that  the  Indians  had  to 
barter  at  that  season.  Buffalo  robes  were  valuable 
only  from  animals  killed  from  November  to  February 
inclusive.  I  did  not  wish  to  remain  in  Fort  Benton; 
I  wanted  to  hunt  and  travel  about  in  this  land  of 
glorious  sunshine  and  dry,  clear  air;  so  I  bought  a  roll 
of  bedding,  large  quantities  of  tobacco,  and  .44  rim-fire 
cartridges  for  my  Henry  rifle,  a  trained  buffalo  horse  and 
saddle,  and  pulled  out  of  the  town  with  Sorrel  Horse 
and  his  outfit.  Perhaps  if  I  had  gone  to  the  mines  in- 
stead I  would  have  done  better  in  a  financial  way. 
More  steamboats  had  arrived,  the  place  was  full  of 
people  bound  for  the  gold  fields,  and  there  were  many 
just  from  there  with  heavy  sacks  of  gold-dust  in  their 
battered  grips  and  greasy  bags.  They  had  made  their 
stake,  they  were  bound  for  the  States;  for  "God's  coun- 
try," they  said.  God's  country!  If  there  was  a  more 
beautiful  land  than  that  of  the  great  sunlit  plains  and 
mountains,  grand  and  soul-inspiring  in  their  immensity, 
I  never  saw  it.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  get  the  mining  fever, 
for  then  I  would  probably  never  have  learned  to  know 

18 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          19 

them  intimately.  There  are  some  things  of  far  more 
value  than  gold.  For  instance,  a  life  free  from  cares  or 
duties  of  any  kind;  a  life  in  which  every  day  and  every 
hour  brings  its  share  of  pleasure  and  satisfaction,  of  ex- 
citement, of  happily  earned  and  well-enjoyed  fatigue. 
Had  I,  too,  gone  to  the  placer  fields  I  might  have  made 
a  fortune,  and  returned  to  the  States,  and  settled  down 
in  some  deadly  monotonous  village,  where  the  most 
exciting  things  that  ever  happened  were  church  festivals 
and  funerals! 

Sorrel  Horse's  wagons,  a  lead  and  a  trail,  drawn  by 
an  eight-horse  team,  were  heavily  loaded  with  provisions 
and  trade-goods,  for  he  was  going  with  a  band  of  the 
Piegans,  the  Small  Robes,  on  their  summer  hunt.  And 
this  was  what  had  made  me  at  once  accept  his  invitation 
to  accompany  him;  I  would  have  an  opportunity  to 
study  the  people.  Much  has  been  written  about  the 
Piegan  Blackfeet,  and  those  who  are  interested  in  the 
subject  should  read  Mr.  Grinnell's  books,  "Blackfoot 
Lodge  Tales"  and  "The  Story  of  the  Indian." 

Sorrel  Horse's  brother-in-law,  Lis'-sis-tsi,  Wolverine, 
and  I  became  great  friends.  I  soon  learned  to  use  the 
sign  language,  and  he  helped  me  in  my  studies  of  the 
Blackfoot  language,  so  difficult  that  few  white  men  ever 
did  become  proficient  in  it.  I  may  say  that  by  diligently 
committing  my  studies  of  it  to  writing  and  by  paying 
especial  attention  to  pronunciation  and  accent,  I  learned 
to  speak  it  as  well  as  any  white  man  ever  did,  with 
perhaps  one  or  two  exceptions. 

How  I  enjoyed  that  summer,  part  of  which  we  passed 
at  the  foot  of  the  Belt  Mountains  and  part  on  Warm 
Spring  Creek  and  the  Judith  River.  I  joined  in  the 
frequent  buffalo  runs,  and  on  my  swift  and  well-trained 
horse  managed  to  kill  my  share  of  the  great  animals.  I 


ao  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

hunted  antelope,  elk,  deer,  bighorn,  and  bear  with  Wol- 
verine. I  would  sit  for  hours  on  a  mountain  slope  or 
the  summit  of  some  lone  butte,  and  watch  the  herds 
and  bands  of  game  about  me,  gaze  at  the  grand  moun- 
tains and  the  vast  and  silent  plain,  and  pinch  myself 
to  realise  that  I  was  really  I,  and  that  it  was  all  real  and 
not  a  dream.  Wolverine  apparently  never  tired  of  all 
this  any  more  than  I ;  he  would  sit  by  my  side,  a  dreamy 
look  in  his  eyes  as  he  gazed  about  him,  and  frequently 
exclaim  "i-tam-ap-i,"  which  is  the  word  for  happiness 
or  perfect  content. 

Yet  Wolverine  was  not  always  happy;  there  were 
days  when  he  went  about  with  a  long  face  and  a  preoc- 
cupied air,  never  speaking  except  to  answer  some  ques- 
tion. One  day  in  August  when  he  was  in  this  mood  I 
asked  what  was  troubling  him. 

"There  is  nothing  troubling  me,"  he  replied.  Then 
after  a  long  silence;  "I  lied,  I  am  in  great  trouble. 
I  love  Piks-ah'-ki  and  she  loves  me,  but  I  cannot  have 
her;  her  father  will  not  give  her  to  me." 

Another  long  silence:  "Yes,  well?"  I  urged,  since 
he  had  forgotten  or  did  not  feel  inclined  to  enlighten 
me  further. 

"Yes,"  he  went  on,  "her  father  is  a  Gros  Ventre,  but 
her  mother  is  Piegan.  Long  ago  my  people  protected 
the  Gros  Ventres,  fought  their  battles,  helped  them  to 
hold  their  country  against  all  enemies.  And  then  the 
two  tribes  quarrelled,  and  for  many  years  were  at  war 
with  each  other.  This  last  winter  they  made  peace. 
It  was  then  I  first  saw  Piks-ah'-ki.  She  is  very  beauti- 
ful; tall,  long  hair,  eyes  like  an  antelope,  small  hands 
and  feet.  I  went  much  to  her  father's  lodge,  and  we 
would  look  at  each  other  when  the  others  there  were 
not  noticing.  One  night  I  was  standing  by  the  doorway 


"  '  She  came  out  for  an  armful  of  wood  '  " 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          21 

of  the  lodge  when  she  came  out  for  an  armful  of  wood 
from  the  big  pile  lying  there.  I  took  hold  of  her  and 
kissed  her,  and  she  put  her  arms  around  my  neck  and 
kissed  me  back.  That  is  how  I  know  she  loves  me.  Do 
you  think " — anxiously — "that  she  would  have  done  that 
if  she  did  not  love  me?" 

"No,  I  do  not  think  she  would." 

His  face  brightened  and  he  continued:  "At  that 
time  I  had  only  twelve  horses,  but  I  sent  them  to  her 
father  with  a  message  that  I  would  marry  his  daughter. 
He  sent  the  horses  back  and  these  words:  'My  daughter 
shall  not  marry  a  poor  man!' 

"I  went  with  a  war  party  against  the  Crows  and  drove 
home  myself  eight  head  of  their  best  horses.  I  traded 
for  others  until  I  had  thirty-two  in  all.  Not  long  ago 
I  sent  a  friend  with  them  to  the  Gros  Ventre  camp  to 
ask  once  more  for  this  girl  I  love;  he  soon  returned, 
driving  back  the  horses  and  this  is  what  her  father  said: 
'My  daughter  shall  never  marry  Wolverine,  for  the 
Piegans  killed  my  son  and  my  brother.'  " 

I  had  no  comment  to  make.  He  looked  at  me  hesitat- 
ingly two  or  three  times  and  finally  said:  "The  Gros 
Ventres  are  encamped  on  the  Missouri,  at  the  mouth  of 
this  little  (Judith)  river.  I  am  going  to  steal  the  girl 
from  her  people;  will  you  go  with  me?" 

"Yes,"  I  quickly  replied.  "I'll  go  with  you,  but  why 
me?  Why  don't  you  ask  some  of  the  Raven  Carriers  to 
go  with  you,  as  you  belong  to  that  society?" 

"Because,"  he  replied,  laughing  a  little  constrainedly, 
"because  I  might  fail  to  get  the  girl;  she  might  even 
refuse  to  go  with  me,  and  then  my  good  friends  would 
tell  about  it,  and  people  would  always  be  joking  me. 
But  you,  if  I  fail,  I  know  you  will  never  tell  about  it." 

One  evening  about  dusk  we  quietly  left  the  camp. 


22  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

No  one  except  Sorrel  Horse — not  even  his  wife — knew 
of  our  departure.  Naturally,  she  would  be  alarmed 
about  her  brother's  absence,  and  he  was  to  tell  her  that 
the  youth  had  gone  in  to  Fort  Benton  with  me  for  a 
day  or  two.  But  how  genial  old  Sorrel  Horse  did  laugh 
when  I  told  him  where  we  were  going  and  for  what  pur- 
pose. 

"Haw,  haw,  haw!  That's  pretty  good!  A  pilgrim, 
only  three  months  in  the  country  and  going  to  help  an 
Indian  steal  a  girl!" 

"When  does  one  cease  to  be  a  pilgrim?"     I  asked. 

"When  he  has  learned  all  about  things  and  ceases  to 
ask  fool  questions.  I  should  say,  in  your  case,  that 
people  will  quit  calling  you  'pilgrim '  in  about  five  years. 
It  takes  most  of  'em  about  fifteen  to  become  acclimated, 
as  you  may  say.  But  joking  aside,  young  man,  this  is 
a  pretty  serious  thing  you  are  going  in  for;  don't  get 
into  any  trouble;  always  keep  close  to  your  horse  and 
remember  that  it  is  better  to  run  than  to  fight ;  you  can 
live  longer  by  doing  so  as  a  general  rule." 

We  left  the  camp  at  dusk,  for  in  those  days  it  was  not 
safe  for  a  couple  of  men  to  ride  over  the  great  plains  in 
the  daytime ;  too  many  war  parties  of  various  tribes  were 
abroad,  seeking  glory  and  wealth  in  the  scalps  and  chat- 
tels of  unwary  travellers.  We  rode  out  of  the  Judith 
valley  eastward  on  to  the  plain,  and  when  we  were  far 
enough  out  to  avoid  the  deep  coule'es  running  into  it, 
turned  and  paralleled  the  course  of  the  river.  Wol- 
verine led  a  lively  but  gentle  pinto  pony  on  which  we 
had  packed  some  bedding,  and  a  large  bundle  done  up 
in  a  fine  buffalo  robe  and  bound  with  many  a  thong. 
These  things  he  had  taken  out  of  camp  the  night  before 
and  hidden  in  the  brush.  There  was  a  glorious  full 
moon,  and  we  were  able  to  trot  and  lope  along  at  a 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          23 

good  pace.  We  had  not  travelled  many  miles  from 
camp  before  we  began  to  hear  the  bellowing  of  the 
buffalo;  it  was  their  mating  season  and  the  bulls  kept 
up  a  continuous  deep,  monotoned  bellow  or  roar  as  they 
charged  and  fought  about  from  band  to  band  of  the 
great  herds.  Several  times  during  the  night  we  rode 
close  to  a  band  and  startled  them,  and  they  ran  off 
thundering  over  the  hard  ground  and  rattling  their 
hoofs,  away,  away  in  the  soft  moonlight;  we  could  hear 
them  still  running  long  after  they  had  disappeared  from 
view.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  wolves  in  the  country  were 
abroad  that  night,  for  they  could  be  heard  in  all  direc- 
tions, near  and  far,  mournfully  howling.  What  a  sad, 
solemn  cry  theirs  was;  so  different  from  the  falsetto, 
impish  yelping  of  the  coyotes. 

On,  on  Wolverine  went,  urging  his  horse  and  never 
looking  back,  and  I  kept  close  up  and  said  nothing, 
although  I  thought  the  pace  too  fast  on  a  plain  honey- 
combed with  badger  and  prairie-dog  holes.  When  at 
last  day  began  to  break  we  found  ourselves  in  a  country 
of  high  pine-clad  buttes  and  ridges,  and  two  or  three 
miles  from  the  Judith  valley.  Wolverine  stopped  and 
looked  all  around,  trying  to  pierce  the  distance  still 
shrouded  in  the  dusk  of  early  morning. 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,"  he  said,  "everything  looks  well. 
The  buffalo  and  the  prairie  runners  (antelope)  feed 
quietly.  But  that  is  not  a  sure  sign  that  an  enemy  is 
not  near;  even  now  some  of  them  may  be  sitting  in  the 
pines  of  those  buttes  looking  down  upon  us.  Let  us 
hurry  to  the  river — we  must  have  water — and  hide  in 
the  timber  in  the  valley." 

We  unsaddled  in  a  grove  of  cottonwoods  and  willows 
and  led  our  horses  to  water.  On  a  wet  sand  bar  where 
we  came  to  the  stream  there  were  a  number  of  human 


24  MY  LIFE  AS  AN    INDIAN 

footprints  so  recently  made  that  they  seemed  to  be  as 
fresh  as  our  own  tracks.  The  sight  startled  us  and  we 
looked  about  anxiously,  holding  our  rifles  in  readiness 
for  a  quick  aim.  There  was  no  timber  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  stream  at  that  point,  and  we  had  just  come 
through  the  grove  above  us,  so  we  realised  that  the 
makers  of  the  tracks  were  not  in  our  immediate  vicinity. 

"Crees  or  men  from  across  the  mountains,"  said 
Wolverine,  again  examining  the  tracks.  "No  matter 
which;  they  are  all  our  enemies.  We  must  be  careful 
and  keep  a  good  watch,  as  they  may  be  nearby." 

We  drank  our  fill  and  went  back  into  the  grove,  tying 
our  horses  so  that  they  could  eat  a  little  of  the  grass  and 
wild  peas  growing  luxuriantly  beneath  the  trees. 

"How  could  you  know,"  I  asked,  "that  those  whose 
tracks  we  saw  are  not  Crows,  or  Sioux,  or  other  people 
of  the  plains?" 

"You  noticed,"  Wolverine  replied,  "that  the  foot- 
prints were  wide,  rounding,  that  even  the  prints  of  their 
toes  could  be  seen;  that  was  because  they  wore  soft- 
bottom  moccasins,  the  sole,  as  well  as  the  upper  part, 
of  tanned  deer  or  buffalo  skin.  Only  those  people  use 
such  footwear;  all  those  of  the  plains  here  wearing 
moccasins  with  hard  parfleche  soles." 

I  had  been  very  hungry  until  I  saw  the  footprints  in 
the  sand,  after  that  I  was  too  busy  watching,  and  listen- 
ing for  a  possible  enemy  to  think  of  anything  else ;  and 
I  fervently  wished  that  I  had  remained  in  camp  and  left 
the  young  Indian  to  do  his  own  girl  stealing. 

"I  will  go  around  the  inner  edge  of  the  grove  and 
have  a  look  at  the  country  and  then  we  will  eat,"  said 
Wolverine. 

I  wondered  what  we  would  eat,  well  knowing  that  we 
dared  not  kill  anything,  nor  build  a  fire,  even  if  we  had 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER  25 

meat.  But  I  said  nothing,  and  while  he  was  gone  I  re- 
saddled  my  horse,  remembering  my  friend's  advice  to 
stay  close  to  it.  Presently  Wolverine  returned. 

"The  war  party  passed  through  the  grove,"  he  said, 
"and  went  on  down  the  valley.  About  two  nights 
from  now  they  will  be  trying  to  steal  the  Gros  Ventre 
horses.  Well,  we  will  eat." 

He  undid  the  buffalo  robe  bundle  and  spread  out  a 
number  of  articles;  heavy  red  and  blue  cloth,  enough 
for  two  dresses.  The  stuff  was  made  in  England  and 
the  traders  sold  it  for  about  $10  a  yard.  Then  there 
were  strings  of  beads,  brass  rings,  silk  handkerchiefs, 
Chinese  vermilion,  needles,  thread,  ear-rings — an  assort- 
ment of  things  dear  to  the  Indian  women. 

"For  her,"  he  said,  laying  them  carefully  aside  and 
producing  some  eatables;  dry  stale  bread,  sugar,  dried 
meat,  and  a  string  of  dried  apples. 

"I  stole  them  from  my  sister,"  he  said.  "I  thought 
that  we  might  not  be  able  to  shoot  any  game  or  build 
a  fire." 

That  was  a  long  day.  By  turns  we  slept  a  little,  that 
is,  Wolverine  slept.  I  am  sure  I  scarcely  dozed,  for  I 
was  always  expecting  the  war  party  to  jump  us.  Yes, 
I  was  pretty  young  at  the  business  then,  and  so  was  the 
Indian.  What  we  ought  to  have  done,  after  getting 
water,  was  to  have  ridden  to  the  top  of  some  butte  and 
remained  there  during  the  day.  From  such  a  point  we 
could  have  seen  the  approach  of  an  enemy  a  long  way 
off,  and  our  swift  horses  could  have  easily  taken  us 
beyond  his  reach.  It  was  mere  luck  that  we  were  not 
seen  to  enter  the  valley  and  the  cottonwood  grove,  for 
there  a  war  party  could  have  surrounded  us  and  ren- 
dered our  escape  difficult,  if  not  impossible. 

Up  to  this  time  Wolverine  had  made  no  definite  plan 


36  MY  LIFE  AS  AN    INDIAN 

to  get  the  girl  away.  Sometimes  he  would  say  that  he 
would  steal  into  the  camp  and  to  her  lodge  at  night,  but 
that  was  certainly  risky,  for  if  he  did  succeed  in  getting 
to  the  lodge  without  being  taken  for  an  enemy  come  to 
steal  horses  he  might  awaken  the  wrong  woman  and 
then  there  would  be  a  terrible  outcry.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  he  boldy  went  into  the  camp  on  a  friendly  visit, 
no  doubt  old  Bull's  Head,  the  girl's  father,  would  sus- 
pect his  purpose  and  closely  watch  her.  But  this  dis- 
covery of  a  war  party  moving  down  the  river  toward 
the  Gros  Ventre  camp  gave  him  a  plain  opening. 

"I  knew  that  my  medicine  would  not  desert  me,"  he 
suddenly  said  that  afternoon,  laughing  happily;  "and 
see,  the  way  is  clear  before  us.  We  will  ride  boldly  into 
camp,  to  the  lodge  of  the  great  chief,  Three  Bears.  I 
will  say  that  our  chief  sent  me  to  warn  him  of  a  war 
party  working  this  way.  I  will  say  that  we  ourselves 
have  seen  their  tracks  along  the  bars  of  the  river.  Then 
the  Gros  Ventres  will  guard  their  horses;  they  will  am- 
bush the  enemy;  there  will  be  a  big  fight,  big  excite- 
ment. All  the  men  will  rush  to  the  fight,  and  that  will 
be  my  time.  I  will  call  Piks-ah'-ki,  we  will  mount  our 
horses  and  fly." 

Again  we  rode  hard  all  night,  and  at  daylight  came  in 
sight  of  the  wide  dark  gash  in  the  great  plain  which 
marked  the  course  of  the  Missouri.  We  had  crossed  the 
Judith  the  evening  before,  and  were  now  on  a  broad 
trail  worn  in  deep  furrows  by  the  travois  and  lodge  poles 
of  many  a  camp  of  Piegans  and  Gros  Ventres,  travelling 
between  the  great  river  and  the  mountains  to  the  south. 
The  sun  was  not  high  when  at  last  we  came  to  the  pine- 
clad  rim  of  the  valley  and  looked  down  into  the  wide, 
long  bottom  at  the  mouth  of  the  Judith ;  there,  whitely 
gleaming  against  the  dark  foliage  of  a  cottonwood  grove, 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          27 

were  the  lodges  of  the  Gros  Ventres,  some  300  and  more. 
Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  horses  were  feeding  on  the 
sage  brush  flat;  riders  were  galloping  here  and  there, 
driving  their  several  bands  to  water,  or  catching  up 
fresh  animals  for  the  daily  hunt.  Although  still  a 
couple  of  miles  away  we  could  hear  the  confused  noise 
of  the  camps,  shouts,  childish  laughter,  singing,  the 
beating  of  drums. 

"Ah!"  Wolverine  exclaimed.  "There  is  the  camp. 
Now  for  the  big  lie."  Then,  more  seriously,  "Pity  me, 
great  Sun!  pity  me,  you  under-water  creature  of  my 
dream!  Help  me  to  obtain  that  which  I  seek  here." 

Oh,  yes,  the  youth  was  in  love.  Cupid  plays  havoc 
with  the  hearts  of  red  as  well  as  white  people.  And — 
dare  I  say  it? — the  love  of  the  red,  as  a  rule,  is  more 
lasting,  more  faithful  than  the  love  of  the  superior  race. 

We  rode  into  the  camp  stared  at  by  all  as  we  passed 
along.  The  chief's  lodge  was  pointed  out  to  us.  We 
dismounted  at  the  doorway,  a  youth  took  charge  of  our 
horses,  and  we  entered.  There  were  three  or  four  guests 
present  enjoying  an  early  feast  and  smoke.  The  chief 
motioned  us  to  the  seat  of  honour  on  his  own  couch  at 
the  back  of  the  lodge.  He  was  a  heavy,  corpulent  man, 
a  typical  Gros  Ventre,  Big  Belly. 

The  pipe  was  being  passed  and  we  smoked  a  few 
whiffs  from  it  in  our  turn.  A  guest  was  telling  a  story, 
when  he  finished  it  the  chief  turned  to  us,  and  asked,  in 
good  Blackfoot,  whence  we  had  come.  Nearly  all  the 
older  Gros  Ventres  at  that  time  spoke  Blackfoot  fluently, 
but  the  Blackfoot  never  could  speak  Gros  Ventre;  it 
was  too  difficult  for  anyone  not  born  and  reared  with 
them  to  learn. 

"We  come,"  Wolverine  replied,  "from  up  the  Yellow 
(Judith)  river,  above  the  mouth  of  the  Warm  Spring. 


38  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

My  chief,  the  Big  Lake,  gives  you  this — producing  and 
handing  him  a  long  coil  of  rope  tobacco — and  asks  you 
to  smoke  with  him  in  friendship." 

"Ah!"  said  Three  Bears,  smiling,  and  laying  the 
tobacco  to  one  side.  "  Big  Lake  is  my  good  friend.  We 
will  smoke  with  him." 

"My  chief  also  sends  word  with  me  that  you  are  to 
keep  close  watch  of  your  horses,  for  some  of  our  hunters 
have  found  signs  of  a  war  party  travelling  this  way. 
We  ourselves,  this  white  man  here,  who  is  my  friend,  and 
I,  we  also  have  come  across  their  trail.  We  saw  it 
yesterday  morning  up  the  river.  There  are  twenty, 
maybe  thirty  of  them,  and  they  are  on  foot.  Perhaps 
to-night,  surely  by  to-morrow  night,  they  will  raid  your 
herd." 

The  old  chief  asked  many  questions  as  to  what  tribe 
the  war  party  might  be,  just  where  we  had  seen  their 
tracks,  and  so  on,  which  Wolverine  answered  as  best  he 
could.  Then  some  boiled  meat,  some  dried  buffalo  back 
fat,  and  some  pemmican  were  set  before  us,'  and  we  had 
our  breakfast.  While  we  were  eating  the  chief  con- 
ferred with  his  other  guests,  and  they  soon  went  away, 
as  I  presumed,  to  tell  the  news  and  prepare  to  surprise 
the  expected  raiders.  Three  Bears  informed  us  that  his 
lodge  was  ours;  that  our  horses  would  be  cared  for;  our 
saddles  and  bridles  were  brought  in  and  piled  near  the 
doorway.  I  forgot  to  mention  that  Wolverine  had 
cached  his  precious  bundle  away  back  on  the  trail  soon 
after  daylight. 

After  our  breakfast  and  another  smoke,  during  which 
the  chief  asked  all  manner  of  questions  about  the  Pie- 
gans,  Wolverine  and  I  strolled  through  the  camp  and 
down  to  the  banks  of  the  river.  On  the  way  he  pointed 
out  the  lodge  of  his  prospective  father-in-law.  Old 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          29 

Bull's  Head  was  a  medicine  man,  and  the  outside  of  his 
abode  was  painted  with  the  symbols  of  his  particular 
dream-given  power,  two  huge  grizzly  bears  in  black, 
below  which  were  circles  of  moons  in  red.  We  sat  by 
the  river  a  while,  watching  a  lot  of  boys  and  young  men 
swim;  I  noticed,  however,  that  my  companion  kept  an 
eye  on  the  women  continually  coming  for  water.  Evi- 
dently the  particular  one  he  longed  to  see  did  not  appear, 
and  we  turned  back  toward  the  chief's  lodge  after  a 
time.  Just  back  of  it  a  couple  of  women  were  killing  a 
fat  pup  of  three  or  four  months  by  strangulation. 

"Why  are  they  killing  that  dog?"     I  asked. 

"Ugh,"  Wolverine  replied,  making  a  wry  face,  "it  is 
for  a  feast  for  us." 

' '  A  feast  for  us ! "  I  repeated  in  astonishment.  ' '  Do 
you  mean  that  they  will  cook  the  dog,  will  expect  us  to 
eat  it?" 

"Yes,  these  Gros  Ventres  eat  dog;  they  think  it  better 
than  buffalo  meat,  or  other  meat  of  any  kind.  Yes,  they 
will  stew  it  and  set  it  before  us,  great  bowls  of  it,  and 
we  must  eat  of  it  or  they  will  be  displeased." 

"  I  will  not  touch  it,"  I  cried.  "  No,  I  will  never  touch 
it." 

"But  you  will,  you  must,  unless  you  wish  to  make 
enemies  of  our  friends;  and" — despondently — "perhaps 
spoil  my  chance  of  getting  that  which  I  have  come  for." 

Well,  in  due  time  the  meat  of  the  dog  was  set  before 
us;  very  white  it  looked,  and  certainly  the  odour  of  it 
was  far  from  disagreeable.  But — it  was  dog.  Never 
in  my  life  had  I  dreaded  to  do  anything  more  than  to 
taste  of  it,  yet  I  felt  that  I  must.  I  grasped  a  rib,  set 
my  muscles  determinedly,  and  bolted  the  meat  upon  it, 
blinking  and  swallowing  and  swallowing  to  keep  it  down. 
And  it  stayed  down;  I  made  it  stay,  although  for  a 


30  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

moment  it  was  a  toss-up  which  would  win — the  nausea 
or  my  will.  In  this  manner  I  managed  to  eat  a  small 
part  of  that  set  before  me,  partaking  liberally  of  some 
berry  pemmican,  which  was  a  sort  of  side  dish.  I  was 
glad  when  the  meal  was  over.  Oh  yes,  I  was  very  glad ; 
and  it  was  many  an  hour  after  before  my  stomach  be- 
came normal. 

It  was  thought  that  the  expected  enemy  would  pos- 
sibly arrive  that  night ;  so  as  soon  as  it  was  dark  nearly 
all  the  men  of  the  camp  picked  up  their  weapons  and 
crept  out  through  the  sage  bush  to  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
stringing  out  far  above  and  below  and  back  of  their 
feeding  herds.  Wolverine  and  I  had  our  horses  up  and 
saddled,  he  telling  the  chief  that  in  case  a  fight  began 
we  would  ride  out  and  join  his  men.  My  comrade  went 
out  early  in  the  evening,  I  sat  up  for  an  hour  or  more, 
and  as  he  did  not  return,  I  lay  down  on  the  couch,  covered 
myself  with  a  blanket  and  was  soon  sound  asleep,  not 
waking  until  morning.  Wolverine  was  just  getting  up. 
After  breakfast  we  went  out  and  walked  around  and  he 
told  me  that  he  had  found  a  chance  to  whisper  to  Piks- 
ah'-ki  the  night  before,  when  she  had  come  outside  for 
wood,  and  that  she  had  agreed  to  go  with  him  when- 
ever the  time  came.  He  was  in  great  spirits,  and  as 
we  strolled  along  the  shore  of  the  river  could  not  help 
breaking  out  in  the  war  songs  which  the  Blackfeet  always 
sing  when  they  are  happy. 

Along  near  noon,  after  we  had  returned  to  the  lodge, 
among  other  visitors  a  tall,  heavy,  evil-featured  man 
came  in;  by  the  nudge  Wolverine  gave  me  as  he  sat 
down  opposite  and  scowled  at  us  I  knew  that  he  was 
Bull's  Head.  He  had  a  heavy  growth  of  hair  which  he 
wore  coiled  on  his  head  like  a  pyramid.  He  talked  for 
some  time  with  Three  Bears  and  the  other  guests,  and 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          31 

then,  to  my  surprise,  began  to  address  them  in  Black- 
foot,  talking  at  us,  and  there  was  real  and  undisguised 
hatred  in  his  tone. 

"This  story  of  an  approaching  war  party,"  he  said, 
"is  all  a  lie.  Look  at  it;  the  Big  Lake  sends  word  that 
his  people  have  seen  their  trail ;  now,  I  know  that  the 
Piegans  are  cowards;  still,  where  there  are  so  many  of 
them  they  would  be  sure  to  follow  such  a  trail  and  at- 
tack the  enemy.  No,  they  never  saw  any  such  trail, 
never  sent  any  such  word ;  but  I  believe  an  enemy  has 
come,  and  is  in  our  camp  now,  not  after  our  herds  but  our 
women.  Last  night  I  was  a  fool.  I  went  out  and 
watched  for  horse-steal ers ;  I  watched  all  night,  but  none 
came.  To-night  I  shall  stay  in  my  lodge  and  watch  for 
women-stealers,  and  my  gun  will  be  loaded.  I  advise 
you  all  to  do  the  same." 

And  having  had  his  say,  he  got  up  and  flounced  out  of 
the  lodge,  muttering  to  himself,  undoubtedly  cursing  all 
the  Piegans,  and  one  in  particular.  Old  Three  Bears 
watched  him  depart  with  a  grim  smile,  and  said  to  Wol- 
verine: 

"Do  not  remember  his  words;  he  is  old,  and  cannot 
forget  that  your  people  killed  his  son  and  his  brother. 
Others  of  us" — with  a  deep  sigh — "others  of  us  also  lost 
brothers  and  sons  in  the  war  with  your  people,  yet  we 
made  the  great  peace.  What  is  past  is  past;  the  dead 
cannot  be  brought  to  life,  but  the  living  will  live  longer 
and  be  happier  now  that  we  have  ceased  to  fight  and 
rob  one  another." 

"You  speak  the  truth,"  said  Wolverine.  "Peac* 
between  we  two  people  is  good.  I  forget  the  old  man'; 
words.  Do  you  also  forget  them  and  guard  your  horses, 
for  this  night  surely  the  enemy  will  come." 

Again  at  dusk  we  saddled  our  horses  and  picketed 


3»  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

them  close  to  the  lodge.  Wolverine  putting  his  saddle 
on  the  pinto  pony  and  shortening  the  stirrups.  He 
intended  to  ride  his  own  animal  bareback.  He  told  me 
that  Piks-ah'-ki  had  been  under  guard  of  her  father's 
Gros  Ventre  wives  all  day;  the  old  man  not  trusting 
her  Piegan  mother  to  accompany  her  after  wood  and 
water  for  the  lodge.  I  again  went  to  sleep  early,  my 
companion  going  out  as  usual.  But  this  time  I  did  not 
rest  until  morning,  for  I  was  awakened  by  the  firing  of 
guns  out  on  the  flat,  and  a  great  commotion  in  camp, 
men  shouting  and  running  toward  the  scene  of  the  fight, 
women  calling  and  talking  excitedly,  children  crying  and 
shrieking.  I  hurried  out  to  where  our  horses  were 
picketed,  carrying  my  own  rifle  and  Wolverine's.  He 
owned  a  fine  Hawkins,  32  balls  to  the  pound,  which 
Sorrel  Horse  had  given  him.  I  learned  afterward  that 
old  Bull's  Head  was  one  of  the  first  to  rush  to  the  rescue 
of  his  horses  when  the  firing  began.  As  soon  as  he  had 
left  the  lodge  Wolverine,  who  was  lying  nearby,  in  the 
sage  brush,  ran  to  it  and  called  his  sweetheart's  name. 
Out  she  came,  followed  by  her  mother,  carrying  several 
little  bags.  A  minute  later  they  came  to  where  I  stood, 
both  women  crying.  Wolverine  and  I  unfastened  the 
horses. 

"Hurry,"  he  cried,  "hurry." 

He  gently  took  the  girl  from  where  she  was  crying 
in  the  embrace  of  her  mother  and  lifted  her  into  the 
saddle,  handing  her  the  bridle  reins. 

"Listen,"  cried  the  mother,  "you  will  be  good  to  her, 
I  call  the  Sun  to  treat  you  as  you  do  her." 

"I  love  her,  and  I  will  be  good  to  her,"  Wolverine 
answered,  and  then  to  us:  "Follow  me,  hurry." 

Away  we  went  over  the  flat,  straight  for  the  trail  upon 
which  we  had  entered  the  valley,  and  straight  toward 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER          33 

the  fight  raging  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  We  could  hear 
the  shots  and  shouts;  see  the  flash  of  the  guns.  This 
was  more  than  I  had  bargained  for;  again  I  was  sorry 
I  had  started  out  on  this  girl-stealing  trip ;  I  didn't  want 
to  charge  in  where  the  bullets  of  a  fight  that  didn't  in- 
terest me  were  flying.  But  Wolverine  was  leading,  his 
sweetheart  riding  close  behind  him,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing for  me  to  do  but  follow  them.  As  we  neared  the 
scene  my  comrade  began  to  shout: 

' '  Where  is  the  enemy  ?  Let  us  kill  all  of  them.  Where 
are  they?  Where  do  they  hide?" 

I  saw  his  point.  He  didn't  intend  that  the  Gros 
Ventres  should  mistake  us  for  some  of  the  raiders.  But 
the  latter;  suppose  we  ran  on  to  any  of  them? 

The  firing  had  ceased  and  the  shouting;  all  was  quiet 
ahead  of  us,  but  we  knew  that  there  in  the  moonlit 
sage  brush  both  parties  were  lying,  the  one  trying  to 
sneak  away,  the  other  trying,  without  too  much  risk, 
to  get  sight  of  them.  We  had  but  a  hundred  yards  or 
more  now  between  us  and  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  I  was 
thinking  that  we  were  past  the  danger  points  when,  with 
a  sputter  of  fire  from  the  pan  and  a  burst  of  flame  from 
the  muzzle,  a  flint-lock  gun  was  discharged  right  in 
front  of  Wolverine,  and  down  went  his  horse  and  he  with 
it.  Our  own  animals  suddenly  stopped.  The  girl 
shrieked  and  cried  out: 

"They  have  killed  him!  Help,  white  man,  they  have 
killed  him!" 

But  before  we  could  dismount  we  saw  Wolverine  ex- 
tricate himself  from  the  fallen  animal,  spring  to  his  feet 
and  shoot  at  something  concealed  from  us  by  the  sage 
brush.  We  heard  a  deep  groan,  a  rustling  of  the  brush 
and  then  Wolverine  bounded  to  the  place  and  struck 
something  three  or  four  hard  blows  with  the  barrel  of 


34  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

his  rifle.  Stooping  over  he  picked  up  the  gun  which  had 
been  fired  at  him. 

"I  count  a  coup,"  he  laughed,  and  running  over  to  me 
and  fastening  the  old  fuke  in  the  gun  sling  on  the  horn 
of  my  saddle,  said,  "Carry  it  a  ways  until  we  get  out  of 
the  valley." 

I  was  about  to  tell  him  that  I  thought  he  was  foolish 
to  delay  us  for  an  old  fuke,  when  right  beside  of  us,  old 
Bull's  Head  appeared,  seeming  to  have  sprung  all  at 
once  out  of  the  brush,  and  with  a  torrent  or  angry  words 
he  grasped  the  girl's  horse  by  the  bridle  and  attempted  to 
drag  her  from  the  saddle.  She  shrieked  and  held  on 
firmly,  and  then  Wolverine  sprang  upon  the  old  man, 
hurled  him  to  the  ground,  wrenched  his  gun  from  him, 
and  flung  it  far;  then  he  sprang  lightly  up  behind  Piks- 
ah'-ki,  dug  his  heels  into  the  pony's  flanks,  and  we  were 
off  once  more,  the  irate  father  running  after  us  and 
shouting,  no  doubt  for  assistance  to  stop  the  runaways. 
We  saw  other  Gros  Ventres  approaching,  but  they  did 
not  seem  to  be  hurrying,  nor  did  they  attempt  in  any 
way  to  stop  us.  No  doubt  the  angry  old  man's  words 
had  given  them  the  key  to  the  situation,  and,  of  course, 
it  was  beneath  their  dignity  to  mix  up  in  a  quarrel  about 
a  woman.  We  went  on  as  fast  as  we  could  up  the  steep, 
long  hill,  and  soon  ceased  to  hear  the  old  man's  com- 
plainings. 

We  were  four  nights  getting  back  to  the  Piegan  camp, 
Wolverine  riding  part  of  the  time  behind  me  and  part  of 
the  time  behind  the  girl,  when  we  were  on  the  trail.  We 
picked  up,  en  route,  the  precious  bundle  which  Wolverine 
had  cached,  and  it  was  good,  the  next  morning,  to  see 
the  girl's  delight  when  she  opened  it  and  saw  what  it 
contained.  That  very  day  while  we  rested  she  made 
herself  a  dress  from  the  red  cloth,  and  I  can  truthfully 


THE  RUSE  OF  A  SAVAGE  LOVER    35 

say  that  when  she  had  arrayed  herself  in  it,  and  put  on 
her  beads  and  rings  and  ear-rings,  and  a  lot  of  other 
pretty  things,  she  certainly  looked  fine.  She  was  a  very 
comely  young  woman  anyway,  and,  as  I  afterward 
learned,  as  good  as  she  was  handsome.  She  made 
Wolverine  a  faithful  and  loving  wife. 

Fearing  that  we  would  be  followed  we  had  taken  a 
circuitous  route  homeward,  and  made  as  blind  a  trail  as 
possible,  and  upon  our  arrival  at  camp  learned  that  old 
Bull's  Head  had  got  in  there  two  days  ahead  of  us.  He 
was  very  different  now  from  the  haughty  and  malevolent 
man  he  had  been  at  home.  He  fairly  cringed  before 
Wolverine,  descanted  upon  his  daughter's  beauty  and 
virtues,  and  said  that  he  was  very  poor.  Wolverine 
gave  him  ten  horses  and  the  fuke  he  had  taken  from  the 
Indian  he  killed  the  night  of  our  flight  from,  the  Gros 
Ventre  camp.  Old  Bull's  Head  informed  us  that  the 
war  party  were  Crees,  and  that  his  people  had  killed  seven 
of  them,  and  that  they  had  not  succeeded  in  stealing 
a  single  horse,  so  completely  were  they  surprised  when 
attacked. 

Well,  I  went  on  no  more  girl-stealing  raids,  but  I  be- 
lieve I  did  other  things  just  as  foolish  on  the  plains  in 
my  youthful  days. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    TRAGEDY   OP   THE    MARIAS 

ACCORDING  to  arrangement,  I  joined  Berry  at  the 
end  of  August,  and  prepared  to  accompany  him 
on  his  winter's  trading  expedition.  He  offered  me  a 
share  in  the  venture,  but  I  was  not  yet  ready  to  accept  it ; 
I  wanted  to  be  absolutely  free  and  independent  for  a 
few  months  more  to  go  and  come  as  I  chose,  to  hunt, 
to  roam  about  with  the  Indians  and  study  their  ways. 

We  left  Fort  Benton  early  in  September  with  the  bull 
train,  creeping  slowly  up  the  hill  out  of  the  bottom,  and 
scarcely  any  faster  over  the  level  of  the  now  brown  and 
dry  plains.  Bulls  are  slow  travellers,  and  these  had  a 
heavy  load  to  haul.  The  quantity  and  weight  of  mer- 
chandise that  could  be  stowed  away  in  those  old-time 
"prairie  schooners"  were  astonishing.  Berry's  train 
now  consisted  of  four  eight-yoke  teams,  drawing  twelve 
wagons  in  all,  loaded  with  fifty  thousand  pounds  of 
provisions,  alcohol,  whisky,  and  trade  goods.  There 
were  four  bull-whackers,  a  night-herder  who  drove  the 
"cavayard" — extra  bulls  and  some  saddle  horses — a 
cook,  three  men  who  were  to  build  the  cabins  and  help 
with  the  trade,  with  Berry  and  his  wife,  and  I.  Not 
a  very  strong  party  to  venture  out  on  the  plains  in  those 
times,  but  we  were  well  armed,  and,  hitched  to  one  of  the 
trail  wagons,  was  a  six-pound  cannon,  the  mere  sight 
or  sound  of  which  was  calculated  to  strike  terror  to  any 
hostiles. 

Our  destination  was  a  point  on  the  Marias  River, 

36 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MARIAS  37 

some  forty-five  miles  north  of  Fort  Benton.  Between 
that  stream  and  the  Missouri,  and  north  of  the  Marias 
to  the  Sweetgrass  Hills  and  beyond,  the  country  was 
simply  dark  with  buffalo,  and,  moreover,  the  Marias 
was  a  favourite  stream  with  the  Blackfeet  for  their 
winter  encampments,  for  its  wide  and  by  no  means  deep 
valley  was  well  timbered.  In  the  shelter  of  the  cotton- 
wood  groves  their  lodges  were  protected  from  the  oc- 
casional north  blizzards,  there  was  an  ample  supply  of 
fuel  and  fine  grass  for  the  horses.  There  were  also 
great  numbers  of  deer,  elk,  and  mountain  sheep  in  the 
valley  and  its  breaks,  and  the  skins  of  these  animals 
were  in  constant  demand;  buckskin  was  largely  used 
for  the  summer  clothing  and  the  footwear  of  the  people. 
September  on  the  plains!  It  was  the  most  perfect 
month  of  all  the  year  in  that  region.  The  nights  were 
cool,  often  frosty;  but  the  days  were  warm,  and  the 
clear  air  was  so  sweet  and  bracing  that  one  seemed  never 
to  get  enough  of  it.  Nor  could  one  tire  of  the  grand, 
the  wondrous,  extent  of  plain  a^nd  mountains,  stretch- 
ing out,  looming  up  in  every  direction.  To  the  west 
were  the  dark  Rockies,  their  sharp  peaks  standing  out 
sharply  against  the  pale  blue  sky;  northward  were  the 
three  buttes  of  the  Sweetgrass  Hills;  eastward  dimly 
loomed  the  Bear  Paws;  south,  away  across  the  Missouri, 
the  pine-clad  Highwood  Mountains  were  in  plain  sight; 
and  between  all  these,  around,  beyond  them,  was  the 
brown  and  silent  plain,  dotted  with  peculiar  flat- topped 
buttes,  deeply  seamed  with  stream  valleys  and  their 
numerous  cou!6es.  Some  men  love  the  forest;  the 
deep  woods  where  lone  lakes  sparkle  and  dark  streams 
flow  slow  and  silent ;  and  it  is  true  that  they  have  a  charm 
of  their  own.  But  not  for  me,  not  for  me.  My  choice 
is  the  illimitable  plain  with  its  distant  mountains,  its 


38  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

lone  buttes,  its  canons  fantastically  rock-walled,  its 
lovely  valleys  beckoning  one  to  the  shelter  of  shady 
groves  by  the  side  of  limpid  streams.  In  the  forest 
one  is  ever  confined  to  a  view  of  a  few  yards  or  rods 
round  about;  but  on  the  plains — often  I  used  to  climb 
to  the  top  of  a  butte,  or  ridge,  and  sit  by  the  hour  gaz- 
ing at  the  immense  scope  of  country  extending  far,  far 
to  the  level  horizon  in  all  directions  except  the  west, 
where  the  Rockies  rise  so  abruptly  from  the  general 
level  of  the  prairie.  And  how  good  one  felt  to  see  the 
buffalo,  and  the  antelope,  and  the  wolves,  scattered 
everywhere  about,  feeding,  resting,  playing,  roaming 
about,  apparently  in  as  great  numbers  as  they  had  been 
centuries  before.  Little  did  any  of  us  dream  that  they 
were  all  so  soon  to  disappear. 

We  were  nearly  three  days  travelling  the  forty-five 
miles  to  our  destination.  We  saw  no  Indians  en  route, 
nor  any  signs  of  them.  On  all  sides  the  buffalo  and 
antelope  grazed  quietly,  and  those  in  our  path  did  not 
run  far  to  one  side  before  they  stopped,  and  began  to 
crop  the  short  but  nutritious  grasses.  We  encamped 
the  second  night  by  a  spring  at  the  foot  of  the  Goose 
Bill,  a  peculiarly  shaped  butte  not  far  from  the  Marias. 
The  wagons  were  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  a  corral,  as 
usual,  and  in  the  centre  of  it  our  lodge  was  put  up,  a 
fine  new  one  of  sixteen  skins.  Berry  and  his  wife,  a 
couple  of  the  men  and  I  slept  in  it,  the  others  making 
their  beds  in  the  wagons,  on  the  merchandise.  We  had 
a  good  supper,  cooked  over  a  fire  of  buffalo  chips,  and 
retired  early.  The  night  was  very  dark.  Some  time 
after  midnight  we  were  awakened  by  a  heavy  tramping 
in  the  corral;  something  crashed  against  a  wagon  on 
one  side  of  us,  and  then  against  another  one  on  the  other 
side.  The  men  in  the  wagons  began  to  call  out,  asking 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MARIAS  39 

one  another  what  was  up ;  Berry  told  us  in  the  lodge  to 
take  our  rifles  and  pile  out.  But  before  we  could  get 
out  of  bed  something  struck  our  lodge  and  over  it  went, 
the  poles  snapping  and  breaking,  the  lodge  skin  going 
on  and  undulatingly  careering  about  the  corral  as  if 
it  were  endowed  with  life;  in  the  intense  darkness  we 
could  just  see  it,  dancing  round  and  round,  a  fiendish 
dance  to  a  step  of  its  own.  At  once  all  was  excitement. 
Mrs.  Berry  shrieked;  we  men  shouted  to  one  another, 
and  with  one  accord  we  all  fled  to  the  shelter  of  the 
wagons  and  hurriedly  crept  under  them.  Some  one  fired 
a  shot  at  the  gyrating  lodge  skin;  Berry,  who  was  beside 
me,  followed  suit,  and  then  we  all  began  to  shoot,  rifles 
cracking  on  all  sides  of  the  corral.  For  a  minute,  per- 
haps, the  lodge  skin  whirled  about,  and  dashed  from 
one  end  of  the  corral  to  the  other  more  madly  than 
ever;  and  then  it  stopped  and  settled  down  upon  the 
ground  in  a  shapeless  heap;  from  under  it  we  heard 
several  deep,  rasping  gasps,  and  then  all  was  still. 
Berry  and  I  crawled  out,  walked  cautiously  over  to 
the  dim,  white  heap  and  struck  a  match;  and  what 
did  we  see  but  the  body  of  a  huge  buffalo  bull,  still 
almost  completely  enveloped  in  the  now  tattered  and 
torn  lodge  covering.  We  could  never  understand  how 
and  why  the  old  fellow  wandered  into  the  corral,  nor 
why,  when  he  charged  the  lodge,  some  of  us  were  not 
trampled  upon.  Berry  and  his  wife  occupied  the  back 
side  of  the  lodge,  and  he  went  right  over  them  in  his 
mad  career,  apparently  without  even  putting  a  hoof 
on  their  bed. 

We  arrived  at  the  Marias  about  noon  the  next  day, 
and  went  into  camp  on  a  finely  timbered  point.  After 
dinner  the  men  began  to  cut  logs  for  the  cabins,  and 
Berry  and  I,  mounting  our  horses,  rode  up  the  river 


40  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

in  quest  of  meat.  We  had  plenty  of  fat  buffalo  cow 
ribs  on  hand,  but  thought  that  a  deer  or  elk  would  be 
good  for  a  change.  On  our  hunt  that  day  we  rode  up 
to  a  point  where  the  "Baker  battle"  afterward  oc- 
curred. That  is  what  it  is  called,  "Baker's  battle," 
and  the  place,  "Baker's  battlefield."  But  that  was  no 
battle;  'twas  a  dreadful  massacre.  The  way  of  it  was 
this:  The  Piegan  Blackfeet  had  been  waylaying  miners 
on  the  trail  between  Fort  Benton  and  the  mines,  and 
they  had  also  killed  a  man  named  Malcolm  Clark,  an 
old  employee  of  the  American  Fur  Co.,  who  was  living 
with  his  Indian  family  near  the  Bird  Tail  Divide.  This 
man  Clark,  by  the  way,  was  a  man  of  fierce  and  un- 
governable temper,  and  in  a  fit  of  anger  had  severely 
beaten  a  young  Piegan  who  was  living  with  him  and 
herding  his  horses.  Now  if  you  have  anything  against 
an  Indian,  never  try  to  obtain  satisfaction  by  beating 
him;  either  get  your  gun  and  kill  him,  or  leave  him 
alone,  for  if  you  strike  him  blood  alone  will  wipe  out 
the  disgrace,  and  sometime  or  other,  when  you  are 
least  expecting  it,  he  will  surely  kill  you.  This  is  what 
happened  to  Clark.  The  young  man  got  a  passing 
war  party  to  back  him,  and  he  murdered  Clark.  The 
War  Department  then  concluded  that  it  was  time  to 
put  a  stop  to  the  Piegan  depredations,  and  Colonel  Baker, 
stationed  at  Fort  Shaw,  was  ordered  to  seek  Black 
Weasel's  band  and  give  them  a  lesson.  It  was  January 
23,  1870,  at  daylight,  that  the  command  arrived  at  the 
bluff  overlooking  a  wooded  bottom  of  the  Marias,  and 
there  among  the  trees  were  pitched  eighty  lodges  of 
the  Piegans,  not,  however,  Black  Weasel's  band;  these 
wereunder  Chief  Bear's  Head ;  but  Colonel  Baker  did  not 
know  that.  Bear's  Head's  people  were,  in  the  main, 
friendlv  to  the  whites. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MARIAS  41 

In  a  low  tone  Colonel  Baker  spoke  a  few  words  to  his 
men,  telling  them  to  keep  cool,  aim  to  kill,  to  spare  none 
of  the  enemy,  and  then  he  gave  the  command  to  fire. 
A  terrible  scene  ensued.  On  the  day  previous  many 
of  the  men  of  the  camp  had  gone  out  toward  the  Sweet- 
grass  Hills  on  a  grand  buffalo  hunt,  so,  save  for  Chief 
Bear's  Head  and  a  few  old  men,  none  were  there  to 
return  the  soldiers'  fire.  Their  first  volley  was  aimed 
low  down  into  the  lodges,  and  many  of  the  sleeping  people 
were  killed  or  wounded  in  their  beds.  The  rest  rushed 
out,  men,  children,  women,  many  of  the  latter  with 
babes  in  their  arms,  only  to  be  shot  down  at  the  door- 
ways of  their  lodges.  Bear's  Head,  frantically  waving 
a  paper  which  bore  testimony  to  his  good  character  and 
friendliness  to  the  white  men,  ran  toward  the  command 
on  the  bluff,  shouting  to  them  to  cease  firing,  entreating 
them  to  save  the  women  and  children ;  down  he  also  went 
with  several  bullet  holes  in  his  body.  Of  the  more 
than  four  hundred  souls  in  camp  at  the  time,  very  few 
escaped.  And  when  it  was  all  over,  when  the  last 
wounded  woman  and  child  had  been  put  out  of  misery, 
the  soldiers  piled  the  corpses  on  overturned  lodges, 
firewood,  and  household  property,  and  set  fire  to  it  all. 

Several  years  afterward  I  was  on  the  ground.  Every- 
where scattered  about  in  the  long  grass  and  brush, 
just  where  the  wolves  and  foxes  had  left  them,  gleamed 
the  skulls  and  bones  of  those  who  had  been  so  ruth- 
lessly slaughtered.  "How  could  they  have  done  it?" 
I  asked  myself,  time  and  time  again.  "What  manner  of 
men  were  those  soldiers  who  deliberately  shot  down 
defenceless  women  and  innocent  children?"  They  had 
not  even  the  excuse  of  being  drunk ;  nor  was  their  com- 
manding officer  intoxicated;  nor  were  they  excited, 
or  in  any  danger  whatever.  Deliberately,  coolly,  with 


42  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

steady  and  deadly  aim,  they  shot  them  down,  killed 
the  wounded,  and  then  tried  to  burn  the  bodies  of  their 
victims.  But  I  will  say  no  more  about  it ;  think  it  over 
yourself  and  try  to  find  a  fit  name  for  men  who  did 
this.* 

On  our  way  up  the  river  we  saw  many  doe  and  fawn 
deer,  a  bunch  of  cow  and  calf  elk,  but  not  a  buck  nor 
bull  of  either  species.  On  our  way  homeward,  however, 
along  toward  sunset,  the  male  deer  were  coming  in  from 
the  breaks  and  coulees  to  water,  and  we  got  a  large, 
fat,  buck  mule  deer.  Madame  Berry  hung  a  whole 
forequarter  of  it  over  the  lodge  fire,  and  there  it  turned 
and  slowly  roasted  for  hours;  about  u  o'clock  she  pro- 
nounced it  done,  and  although  we  had  eaten  heartily 
at  dusk,  we  could  not  resist  cutting  into  it,  and  it  was 
so  good  that  in  a  short  time  nothing  was  left  of  the  feast 
but  the  bones.  I  know  of  no  way  of  roasting  meat  equal 
to  this.  You  must  have  a  lodge — to  prevent  draughts 
— a  small  fire;  suspend  the  roast  from  a  tripod  above 
the  blaze,  and  as  it  cooks  give  it  an  occasional  twirl; 
hours  are  required  to  thoroughly  roast  it,  but  the  result 
more  than  repays  the  labour  involved. 

The  men  soon  cut  and  dragged  out  the  required  logs, 

*The  Baker  massacre,  which  took  place  Jan.  33,  1870,  on  the  Marias  River, 
was  in  its  day  a  well-known  event.  The  official  reports  declare  that  173  Indians 
were  killed  and  100  women  and  children  captured.  Later  and  more  accurate 
reports  led  to  the  belief  that  176  people  were  killed.  Of  the  killed,  fifteen  men 
were  reported  as  fighting  men  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  thirty-seven,  eight- 
teen  were  middle-aged  and  old  men  between  thirty-seven  and  seventy.  The 
women  killed  numbered  ninety,  and  the  children  under  twelve  years  of  age — 
manyof  them  infantsin  arms — fifty-five.  Whenthenewsof  the  massacre  reached 
the  East,  the  newspapers  took  it  up,  and  there  was  much  excitement  about  it. 
General  Sheridan  was  bitterly  assailed  for  his  action.  There  never  was  any  ques- 
tion but  that  the  camp  which  Colonel  Baker  attacked  was  one  of  friendly  Indians ; 
people  who  had  committed  no  depredations.  The  village  to  which  the  murderers 
belonged  was  that  of  Mountain  Chief,  which  at  the  time  was  camped  on  Belly 
River  in  British  America.  Details  of  this  destruction  of  life  will  be  found  in 
Manypenny's  "Our  Indian  Wards." 

EDITOR. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MARIAS  43 

put  up  the  walls  of  our  "fort,"  and  laid  on  the  roof  of 
poles,  which  was  covered  with  a  thick  layer  of  earth. 
When  finished,  it  formed  three  sides  of  a  square  and 
contained  eight  rooms,  each  about  sixteen  feet  square. 
There  was  a  trade  room,  two  living  rooms,  each  of  which 
had  a  rude  but  serviceable  fireplace  and  chimney,  built 
of  mud-mortared  stones.  The  other  rooms  were  for 
storing  merchandise  and  furs  and  robes.  In  the  par- 
titions of  the  trade  room  were  numerous  small  holes, 
through  which  rifles  could  be  thrust ;  at  the  back  end 
of  the  square  stood  the  six-pounder.  With  all  these 
precautions  for  defence  and  offence,  it  was  thought  that 
even  the  most  reckless  party  of  braves  would  think 
twice  before  making  an  attack  upon  the  traders.  But, 
of  course,  liquor  was  to  be  the  staple  article  of  trade, 
and  even  the  most  experienced  man  could  never  foretell 
what  a  crowd  of  drink-crazed  Indians  would  do. 

The  fort  was  barely  completed  when  the  Piegan 
Blackfeet  arrived,  and  pitched  their  lodges  in  a  long, 
wide  bottom  about  a  mile  below  us.  I  passed  the 
greater  part  of  my  time  down  in  their  camp  with  a  young 
married  man  named  Weasel  Tail,  and  another  who 
bore  a  singular  name:  Talks- with- the-buffalo.  These 
two  were  inseparable  companions,  and  somehow  they 
took  a  great  liking  to  me,  and  I  to  them.  Each  one 
had  a  fine  new  lodge,  and  a  pretty  young  wife.  I  said 
to  them  once:  "Since  you  think  so  much  of  each  other, 
I  do  not  understand  why  you  do  not  live  together  in 
one  lodge.  It  would  save  much  packing,  much  wear 
of  horses  when  travelling,  much  labour  of  gathering 
fire-wood,  of  setting  up  and  breaking  camp." 

Talks- with- the-buffalo  laughed  heartily.  "It  is  easy 
to  see,"  he  replied,  "that  you  have  never  been  married. 
Know  this,  my  good  friend:  Two  men  will  live  to- 


44  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

gether  in  quiet  and  lasting  friendship,  but  two  women 
never ;  they  will  be  quarrelling  about  nothing  in  less  than 
three  nights,  and  will  even  try  to  drag  their  husbands 
into  the  row.  That  is  the  reason  we  live  separately; 
to  be  at  peace  with  our  wives.  As  it  is,  they  love  each 
other,  even  as  my  friend  here  and  I  love  each  other, 
and  thus,  for  the  good  of  us  all,  we  have  two 
lodges,  two  fires,  two  pack  outfits,  and  enduring  peace." 

Thinking  the  matter  over,  I  realised  that  they  were 
right.  I  knew  two  sisters  once,  white  women — but 
that  is  another  story.  And  after  I  married,  and  my 
wife  and  I  took  up  our  home  with  a  friend  and  his  wife 
for  a  time — but  that  is  still  another  story.  Oh,  yes,  the 
Indian  knew  whereof  he  spoke;  neither  white  nor 
Indian  married  women  can  manage  a  common  house- 
hold in  peace  and  friendship. 

I  enjoyed  myself  hugely  in  that  great  camp  of  seven 
hundred  lodges — some  thirty-five  hundred  people.  I 
learned  to  gamble  with  the  wheel  and  arrows,  and  with 
the  bit  of  bone  concealed  in  one  or  the  other  of  the  player's 
hands,  and  I  even  mastered  the  gambling  song,  which 
is  sung  when  the  latter  game  is  being  played  around 
the  evening  lodge  fire.  Also,  I  attended  the  dances, 
and  even  participated  in  the  one  that  was  called  "As- 
sin-ah-pes-ka" — Assiniboin  dance.  Remember  that  I 
was  less  than  twenty  years  of  age,  just  a  boy,  but  per- 
haps more  foolish — more  reckless  than  most  youths. 

In  this  Assiniboin  dance,  only  young  unmarried 
men  and  women  participate.  Their  elders,  their  par- 
ents and  relatives,  beat  the  drums  and  sing  the  dance 
song,  which  is  certainly  a  lively  one,  and  of  rather  an 
abandoned  nature.  The  women  sit  on  one  side  of  the 
lodge,  the  men  on  the  other.  The  song  begins,  every 
one  joining  in.  The  dancers  arise,  facing  each  other. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MARIAS  45 

rising  on  their  tip  toes,  and  then  sinking  so  as  to  bend  the 
knees.  Thus  they  advance  and  meet,  then  retreat, 
again  advance  and  retreat  a  number  of  times,  all  singing, 
all  smiling  and  looking  coquettishly  into  each  others' 
eyes.  Thus  the  dance  continues,  perhaps  for  several 
hours,  with  frequent  pauses  for  rest,  or  maybe  to  feast 
and  smoke.  But  all  the  fun  comes  in  toward  the  close 
of  the  festivities;  the  lines  of  men  and  women  have 
advanced;  suddenly  a  girl  raises  her  robe  or  toga,  casts 
it  over  her  own  and  the  head  of  the  youth  of  her  choice, 
and  gives  him  a  hearty  kiss.  The  spectators  shout  with 
laughter,  the  drums  are  beaten  louder  than  ever,  the 
song  increases  in  intensity.  The  lines  retreat,  the 
favoured  youth  looking  very  much  embarrassed,  and 
all  take  their  seats.  For  this  kiss  payment  must  be 
made  on  the  morrow.  If  the  young  man  thinks  a  great 
deal  of  the  girl,  he  may  present  her  with  one  or  two 
horses;  he  must  give  her  something,  if  only  a  copper 
bracelet  or  string  of  beads.  I  believe  that  I  was  an 
"ea£y  mark"  for  those  lively  and,  I  fear,  mercenary 
maidens,  for  I  was  captured  with  the  toga,  and  kissed 
more  often  than  any  one  else.  And  the  next  morning 
there  would  be  three  or  four  of  them  at  the  trading  post 
with  their  mothers ;  and  one  must  have  numerous  yards 
of  bright  prints;  another  some  red  trade  cloth  and  beads ; 
still  another  a  blanket.  They  broke  me,  but  still  I 
would  join  in  when  another  dance  was  given. 

But  if  I  danced,  and  gambled,  and  raced  horses,  my 
life  in  the  camp  was  by  no  means  a  continual  round  of 
foolishness.  I  spent  hours  and  hours  with  the  medicine 
men  and  old  warriors,  learning  their  beliefs  and  tra- 
ditions, listening  to  their  stories  of  the  gods,  their  tales 
of  war  and  the  hunt.  Also  I  attended  the  various  re- 
ligious ceremonies;  listened  to  the  pathetic  appeals  of 


46  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  medicine  men  to  the  Sun  as  they  prayed  for  health, 
long  life,  and  happiness  for  the  people.  It  was  all  ex- 
ceedingly interesting. 

Alas!  Alas!  why  could  not  this  simple  life  have 
continued?  Why  must  the  railroads,  and  the  swarms 
of  settlers  have  invaded  that  wonderful  land,  and  robbed 
its  lords  of  all  that  made  life  worth  living?  They  knew 
not  care,  nor  hunger,  nor  want  of  any  kind.  From 
my  window  here  I  hear  the  roar  of  the  great  city,  and 
see  the  crowds  hurrying  by.  The  day  is  bitterly  cold, 
yet  the  majority  of  the  passers  by,  women  as  well  as 
men,  are  thinly  clad,  and  their  faces  are  thin,  and  their 
eyes  express  sad  thoughts.  Many  of  them  have  no 
warm  shelter  from  the  storm,  know  not  where  they  can 
get  a  little  food,  although  they  would  gladly  work  for 
it  with  all  their  strength.  They  are  "bound  to  the 
wheel,"  and  there  is  no  escape  from  it  except  by  death. 
And  this  is  civilisation!  I,  for  one,  maintain  that  there 
is  no  satisfaction,  no  happiness  in  it.  The  Indians  of 
the  plains  back  in  those  days  of  which  I  write,  alone 
knew  what  was  perfect  content  and  happiness,  and  that, 
we  are  told,  is  the  chief  end  and  aim  of  men — to  be  free 
from  want,  and  worry,  and  care.  Civilisation  will  never 
furnish  it,  except  to  the  very,  very  few. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    WAR   TRIP   FOR   HORSES 

THE  young  and  middle-aged  men  of  the  tribe  were 
constantly  setting  out  for,  or  returning  from  war, 
in  parties  of  from  a  dozen  to  fifty  or  more.  That  was 
their  recreation,  to  raid  the  surrounding  tribes  who 
preyed  upon  their  vast  hunting  ground,  drive  off  their 
horses,  and  take  scalps  if  they  could.  It  was  an  in- 
spiring sight  to  witness  the  return  of  a  party  which  had 
been  successful.  A  few  miles  back  from  camp  they 
would  don  their  picturesque  war  clothes,  paint  their 
faces,  decoraffe  their  horses  with  eagle  plumes  and  paint, 
and  then  ride  quietly  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  over- 
looking the  village.  There  they  would  begin  the  war 
song,  whip  their  horses  into  a  mad  run,  and,  firing  guns 
and  driving  before  them  the  animals  they  had  taken, 
charge  swiftly  down  the  hill  into  the  bottom.  Long 
before  they  arrived  the  camp  would  be  in  an  uproar 
of  excitement,  and  the  women,  dropping  whatever 
work  they  had  in  hand,  would  rush  to  meet  them,  fol- 
lowed more  slowly  and  sedately  by  the  men.  How 
the  women  would  embrace  and  hang  on  to  their  loved 
ones  safely  returned ;  and  presently  they  could  be  heard 
chanting  the  praises  of  husband,  or  son,  or  brother. 
"Fox  Head  has  returned!"  one  would  cry.  "Oh,  Ai! 
Fox  Head,  the  brave  one,  has  returned,  driving  before 
him  ten  of  the  enemy's  herd.  Also,  he  brings  the  scalp 
of  an  enemy  whom  he  killed  in  battle.  Oh,  the  brave 

47 


48  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

one!  He  brings  the  weapons  of  this  enemy  he  killed; 
brave  Fox  Head!" 

And  so  it  would  go  on,  each  woman  praising  the 
valour  of  her  particular  relative ;  and  then  the  returned 
warriors,  tired,  hungry,  thirsty,  but  proud  of  their 
success  and  glad  to  be  once  more  at  home,  would  retire 
to  their  lodges,  and  their  faithful  women  folk,  mother, 
and  wife,  and  sister,  would  hasten  to  prepare  for  them  a 
soft  couch,  and  bring  cool  water,  and  set  out  a  feast  of 
the  choicest  meat  and  pemmican  and  dried  berries. 
They  were  so  happy  and  so  proud,  that  they  could  not 
sit  still;  and  every  now  and  then  one  of  them  would  go 
out  and  walk  about  among  the  lodges,  again  chanting 
praise  of  the  loved  one. 

No  sooner  did  one  of  these  parties  return  than  others, 
incited  by  their  success  and  anxious  to  emulate  it,  would 
form  a  party  and  start  out  against  the  Crows,  or  the 
Assiniboins,  or  perhaps  the  Crees,  or  some  of  the 
tribes  on  the  far  side  of  the  Back-bone-of-the-world, 
as  the  Rockies  were  called.  Therefore  I  was  not  sur- 
prised one  morning  to  be  told  that  they  were  about  to 
start  on  a  raid  against  the  Assiniboins.  "And  you 
can  go  with  us  if  you  wish  to,"  Talks- with-the-buffalo 
concluded.  "You  helped  your  friend  to  steal  a  girl,  and 
you  might  as  well  try  your  hand  at  stealing  horses." 

"I  will,"  I  replied,  "I'll  go  with  you;  it  is  just  what  I 
have  been  longing  to  do." 

When  I  told  Berry  of  my  intention,  both  he  and  his 
wife  protested  strongly  against  it.  "You  have  no  right 
to  risk  your  life,"  he  said,  "for  a  few  cayuses."  "Think 
how  your  people  would  mourn,"  said  his  wife,  "if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  you." 

But  my  mind  was  made  up ;  I  was  determined  to  go, 
and  I  did;  but  not  for  the  intrinsic  value  of  any  horses 


1 


A  WAR  TRIP  FOR  HORSES  49 

or  other  plunder  that  I  might  obtain ;  it  was  the  excite- 
ment and  the  novelty  of  the  thing  which  attracted  me. 
There  were  to  be  thirty  of  us,  and  Heavy  Breast,  a 
grim  and  experienced  warrior  of  some  forty  years,  was 
to  be  our  partisan,  or  leader.  He  himself  was  the  owner 
of  a  medicine  pipe,  which  was  considered  to  have  great 
power.  He  had  carried  it  on  many  an  expedition,  and 
it  had  always  brought  him  and  his  parties  good  luck; 
taken  them  through  various  conflicts  unharmed.  But 
for  all  this,  we  had  to  get  an  old  medicine  man  to  pray 
with  us  in  the  sacred  sweat  lodge  before  we  started,  and 
to  pray  for  us  daily  durin^our  absence.  Old  Lone  Elk 
was  chosen  for  this  responsible  position;  his  medicine 
was  of  great  power  and  had  found  favour  with  the  Sun 
these  many  years.  The  sweat  lodge  was  not  large 
enough  to  accommodate  us  all,  so  half  of  the  party  went 
in  at  a  time,  I  remaining  with  my  two  friends  and  going 
in  with  the  last  division.  At  the  entrance  of  the  sweat 
lodge  we  dropped  our  robes  or  blankets,  our  only  cov- 
ering, and  creeping  in  at  the  low  doorway,  sat  around 
the  interior  in  silence  while  the  red-hot  stones  were 
passed  in  and  dropped  in  a  hole  in  the  centre.  Lone 
Elk  began  to  sprinkle  them  with  a  buffalo  tail  dipped  in 
water  and  as  the  stifling  hot  steam  enveloped  us  he 
started  a  song  of  supplication  to  the  Sun,  in  which  all 
joined.  After  that  the  old  man  prayed  long  and  ear- 
nestly, beseeching  the  Sun  to  pity  us;  to  carry  us  safely 
through  the  dangers  which  would  beset  our  way,  and 
to  give  us  success  in  our  undertaking.  Then  the  medi- 
cine pipe  was  filled,  lighted  with  a  coal  which  was 
passed  in,  and  as  it  was  passed  around,  each  one,  after 
blowing  a  whiff  of  smoke  toward  the  heavens  and  the 
earth,  made  a  short  prayer  to  the  Sun,  to  Old  Man  and 
Mother  Earth.  And  when  my  turn  came,  I  also  made 


5o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  prayer,  audibly  like  the  rest,  and  to  the  best  of  my 
ability.  No  one  smiled;  my  companions  believed  that 
I  was  sincere  in  my  avowal  to  be  one  of  them  in  word, 
thought,  and  deed.  I  wanted  to  know  these  people; 
to  know  them  thoroughly;  and  I  considered  that  the 
only  way  to  do  so  was  for  a  time  to  live  their  life  in  every 
particular  in  order  to  win  their  entire  confidence.  And 
so  I  made  an  earnest  prayer  to  the  Sun,  and  I  thought 
of  something  I  had  learned  in  other  days  in  a  far  away 
country:  "Thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods  before 
me,"  etc.  I  believed  all  that  once,  and  listened  to  a 
Piesbyterian  preacher  of  a  Sunday  threatening  us  with 
hell's  fire  and  brimstone  and  the  terrible  anger  of  a 
vengeful  God.  Why,  after  hearing  one  of  those  ser- 
mons I  was  afraid  to  go  to  bed,  lest  in  my  sleep  I  should 
be  snatched  into  perdition.  But  all  that  was  now  past ; 
I  had  no  more  faith,  nor  fear,  nor  hope,  having  concluded 
that  one  can  only  say,  "I  do  not  know."  So  I  prayed 
to  the  Sun  with  right  good  will  in  the  furtherance  of 
my  plan. 

It  was  getting  late  in  the  season,  and  the  Assini- 
boins  were  thought  to  be  a  long  way  from  us,  some- 
where near  the  mouth  of  the  Little  River,  as  the  Black- 
feet  name  the  stream  we  call  Milk  River.  So  it  was 
decided  that  we  should  set  out  on  horseback  instead  of 
afoot.  The  latter  was  the  favourite  way  of  making  a 
raid,  for  a  party  travelling  in  that  manner  left  no  trail, 
and  could  effectually  conceal  themselves  during  the  day- 
time. 

So  one  evening,  led  by  our  partisan,  we  set  forth  and 
travelled  southeastward  over  the  dark  plain,  paralleling 
the  river.  My  companions  were  not  the  befringed  and 
beaded  and  painted  and  eagle  plume  decked  warriors 
one  reads  about  and  sees  pictured.  They  wore  their 


A  WAR  TRIP  FOR  HORSES  51 

plain,  every-day  leggings  and  shirt  and  moccasins  and 
either  the  blanket  or  the  cowskin  toga.  But  tied  to 
their  saddles  were  their  beautiful  war  clothes,  and  in  a 
small  parfleche  cylinder  their  eagle  plume  or  horn  and 
weasel-skin  head  dresses.  When  going  into  battle,  if 
there  was  time,  these  would  be  donned;  if  not,  they 
would  be  carried  into  the  fray,  for  they  were  considered 
to  be  great  medicine,  the  shirt  especially,  upon  which 
was  painted  its  owner's  dream,  some  animal  or  star  or 
bird,  which  had  appeared  to  him  during  the  long  fast 
he  made  ere  he  changed  from  careless  youth  to  re- 
sponsible warrior. 

We  rode  hard  that  night,  and  morning  found  us 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  mouth  of  Marias  River. 
In  all  directions  buffalo  and  antelope  were  to  be  seen 
quietly  resting  or  grazing;  evidently  there  were  no 
o^her  persons  than  us  anywhere  in  the  vicinity.  "It 
will  not  be  necessary  to  hide  ourselves  this  day,"  said 
Heavy  Breast,  and  detailing  one  of  the  party  to  remain 
on  the  edge  of  the  bluff  for  a  lookout,  he  led  us  down 
into  the  valley,  where  we  unsaddled  and  turned  our 
horses  out  by  the  stream — all  but  Weasel  Tail  and  I; 
we  were  told  to  get  some  meat.  A  charge  of  powder 
and  a  ball  meant  much  to  an  Indian,  and  as  I  had 
plenty  of  cartridges  for  my  Henry  rifle,  and  could  get 
plenty  more,  it  fell  to  me  to  furnish  the  meat — a  pleas- 
ant task.  We  had  not  far  to  go  to  find  it.  Less  than 
half  a  mile  away  we  saw  a  fine  band  of  antelope  coming 
into  the  valley  for  water,  and  by  keeping  behind  various 
clumps  of  sarvis  and  cherry  brush,  I  managed  to  get 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  them,  and  shot  two,  both 
bucks,  in  good  order.  We  took  the  meat,  the  tongues, 
liver,  and  tripe  and  returned  to  camp,  and  every  one 
was  soon  busily  roasting  his  favourite  portion  over  the 


5*  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

fire,  every  one  except  Heavy  Breast.  To  him  fell 
always  the  best  meat,  or  a  tongue  if  he  wanted  it,  and 
a  youth  who  was  taking  his  first  lesson  on  the  war  trail 
cooked  it  for  him,  brought  him  water,  cared  for  his 
horse,  was,  in  fact,  his  servant.  A  partisan  was  a  man 
of  dignity,  and  about  as  unapproachable  as  an  army 
general.  While  the  rest  chatted  and  joked,  and  told 
yarns  around  the  camp  fire,  he  sat  apart  by  himself, 
and  by  a  separate  fire  if  he  wished  it.  He  passed  much 
time  in  prayer,  and  in  speculating  regarding  the  por- 
tent of  his  dreams.  It  often  happened  that  when  far 
from  home  and  almost  upon  the  point  of  entering  an 
enemy's  village,  a  partisan's  dream  would  turn  the 
party  back  without  their  making  any  attempt  to  ac- 
complish their  object. 

After  leaving  the  Marias,  we  were  careful  to  conceal 
ourselves  and  our  horses  as  well  as  possible  during  the 
daytime.  We  skirted  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Bear's 
Paw  Mountains,  the  eastern  edge  of  the  Little  Rockies 
— in  Blackfoot,  Mah-kwi-is-stuk-iz:  Wolf  Mountains. 
We  expected  to  find  the  Gros  Ventres  encamped  some- 
where along  here — it  will  be  remembered  that  they 
were  at  this  time  at  peace  with  the  Blackfeet — but  we 
saw  no  signs  of  them  less  than  four  or  five  months  old, 
and  we  concluded  that  they  were  still  down  on  the 
Missouri  River.  Wherever  we  camped,  one  or  more 
sentinels  were  kept  posted  in  a  position  overlooking 
the  plains  and  mountains  roundabout,  and  every  even- 
ing they  would  report  that  the  game  was  quiet,  and  that 
there  was  no  sign  of  any  persons  except  ourselves  in 
all  that  vast  region. 

One  morning  at  daylight  we  found  ourselves  at  the 
foot  of  a  very  high  butte  just  east  of  the  Little  Rockies, 
which  I  was  told  was  the  Hairy  Cap,  and  well  was  it 


A  WAR  TRIP  FOR  HORSES  53' 

named,  for  its  entire  upper  portion  was  covered  with  a 
dense  growth  of  pine.  We  went  into  camp  at  the  foot 
of  it,  close  to  a  spring  and  in  a  fine  grassy  glade  entirely 
surrounded  by  brush.  Talks-with-the-buffalo  and  I 
were  told  to  ascend  to  the  summit  of  the  butte  and 
remain  there  until  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  others 
would  take  our  place.  We  had  both  saved  a  large 
piece  of  roast  buffalo  ribs  from  the  meal  of  the  previous 
evening,  so,  drinking  all  the  water  we  could  hold  and 
lugging  our  roast,  we  climbed  upward  on  a  broad  game 
trail  running  through  the  pines,  and  finally  reached  the 
summit.  We  found  several  war  houses  here,  lodges 
made  of  poles,  brush,  pieces  of  rotten  logs;  so  closely  laid 
that  not  a  glimmer  of  a  fire  could  shine  through  them. 
It  was  the  way  war  parties  of  all  tribes  had  of  build- 
ing a  fire  for  cooking  or  to  warm  themselves  without 
betraying  their  presence  to  any  passing  enemy. 
We  saw  six  of  these  shelters,  some  of  them  quite  re- 
cently built,  and  there  were  probably  more  in  the  vicin- 
ity. My  companion  pointed  out  one  which  he  had 
helped  build  two  summers  before,  and  he  said  that  the 
butte  was  frequented  by  war  parties  from  all  the  tribes 
of  the  plains,  because  it  commanded  such  an  extended 
view  of  the  country.  Indeed  it  did.  Northward  we 
could  see  the  course  of  Milk  River  and  the  plains  be- 
yond it.  To  the  south  was  visible  all  the  plain  lying 
between  us  and  the  Missouri,  and  beyond  the  river 
there  was  still  more  plain,  the  distant  Snowy  and 
Moccasin  mountains  and  the  dark  breaks  of  the  Mussel- 
shell.  Eastward  was  a  succession  of  rolling  hills  and 
ridges  clear  to  the  horizon. 

We  sat  down  and  ate  our  roast  meat,  and  then  Talks- 
with-the-buffalo  filled  and  lighted  his  black  stone  pipe 
and  we  smoked.  After  a  little  I  became  very  drowsy. 


54  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


"You  sleep,"  said  Talks-with-the-buffalo,  "and  I  will 
keep  watch."  So  I  lay  down  under  a  tree  and  was  soon 
in  dreamland. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  he  awoke  me.  "Look! 
Look!"  he  cried  excitedly,  pointing  toward  the  Mis- 
souri. "A  war  party  coming  this  way." 

Rubbing  my  eyes,  I  gazed  in  the  direction  indicated, 
and  saw  bands  of  buffalo  skurrying  to  the  east,  the 
west,  and  northward  toward  us,  and  then  I  saw  a  com- 
pact herd  of  horses  coming  swiftly  toward  the  butte, 
driven  by  a  number  of  riders.  "They  are  either  Crees 
or  Assiniboins,"  said  my  companion;  "they  have 
raided  the  Crows  or  the  Gros  Ventres,  and,  fearing  pur- 
suit, are  hurrying  homeward  as  fast  as  they  can  ride." 

Running,  leaping,  how  we  did  speed  down  the  side  of 
that  butte.  It  seemed  but  a  moment  ere  we  were 
among  our  companions,  giving  our  news.  Then  what  a 
rush  there  was  to  saddle  horses,  don  war  clothes  and 
head  dresses,  and  strip  off  shield  coverings.  And  now 
Heavy  Breast  himself  ascended  the  side  of  the  butte 
until  he  could  get  a  view  of  the  oncoming  party,  while 
we  waited  for  him  at  its  base.  He  stood  there,  per- 
haps a  hundred  yards  from  us,  looking,  looking  out  over 
the  plain,  and  we  began  to  get  nervous;  at  least  I  did. 
I  thought  that  he  never  would  come  down  and  give 
us  his  plan.  I  must  confess  that,  now  the  time  was  at 
hand  when  I  was  to  engage  in  an  assault,  I  dreaded  it, 
and  would  have  been  mightily  glad  at  that  moment  to 
be  safely  with  Berry  away  up  on  the  Marias.  But  there 
could  be  no  retreat ;  I  must  go  with  the  rest  and  do  my 
share,  and  I  longed  to  have  it  all  over  with. 

After  a  wait  of  five  or  ten  minutes,  Heavy  Breast 
joined  us.  "They  will  pass  some  distance  east  of  here," 
he  said.  "We  will  ride  down  this  coulde  and  meet 


A  WAR  TRIP  FOR  HORSES  55 

them."  It  wasn't  much  of  a  coulee,  just  a  low,  wide 
depression  in  the  plain,  but  deep  enough  to  conceal  us. 
Every  little  way  our  leader  would  cautiously  ride  up  to 
the  edge  of  it  and  look  out  southward,  and  finally  he 
called  a  halt.  "We  are  now  right  in  their  path,"  he 
said.  "As  soon  as  we  can  hear  the  beat  of  their  horses' 
hoofs  we  will  dash  up  out  of  here  at  them." 

How  my  heart  did  thump ;  my  throat  felt  dry ;  I  was 
certainly  scared.  Like  one  in  a  daze,  I  heard  Heavy 
Breast  give  the  command,  and  up  we  went  out  of  the 
coulee,  our  leader  shouting,  "Take  courage;  take  cour- 
age! Let  us  wipe  them  out!" 

The  enemy  and  the  herd  they  were  driving  were  not 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  distant  when  we  got  upon  a 
level  with  them,  and  our  appearance  was  so  sudden  that 
their  horses  were  stampeded,  some  running  off  to  the 
east  and  some  to  the  west.  For  a  moment  they  tried 
to  round  them  in  again,  and  then  we  were  among  them, 
and  they  did  their  best  to  check  our  advances,  firing 
their  guns  and  arrows.  Some  were  armed  only  with 
the  bow.  One  after  another  I  saw  four  of  them  tumble 
from  their  horses  to  the  ground,  and  the  rest  turned  and 
fled  in  all  directions,  our  party  close  after  them.  They 
outnumbered  us,  but  they  seemed  to  have  little  courage. 
Perhaps  our  sudden  and  unexpected  onslaught  had  de- 
moralised them  at  the  start.  Somehow,  the  moment 
I  rode  out  of  the  coulee  and  saw  them,  I  felt  no  more 
fear,  but  instead  became  excited  and  anxious  to  be  right 
at  the  front.  I  fired  at  several  of  them,  but  of  course 
could  not  tell  if  they  fell  to  my  shots  or  those  of  our 
party.  When  they  turned  and  fled  I  singled  out  one 
of  them,  a  fellow  riding  a  big  strawberry  pinto,  and 
took  after  him.  He  made  straight  for  Hairy  Cap  and 
its  sheltering  pines,  and  I  saw  at  once  that  he  had  the 


S6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

better  horse  and  would  get  away  unless  I  could  stop 
him  with  a  bullet;  and  how  I  did  try  to  do  so,  firing 
shot  after  shot,  each  time  thinking,  ' '  This  time  I  must 
certainly  hit  him."  But  I  didn't.  Three  times  he 
loaded  his  flint  lock  and  shot  back  at  me.  His  aim  must 
have  been  as  bad  as  mine,  for  I  never  even  heard  the 
whiz  of  the  bullets,  nor  saw  them  strike.  On,  on  he 
went,  putting  more  distance  between  us  all  the  time. 
He  had  now  reached  the  foot  of  the  butte,  and  urged  the 
horse  up  its  steep  side,  soon  reaching  a  point  where  it 
was  so  nearly  perpendicular  that  the  animal  could  carry 
him  no  farther.  He  jumped  off  and  scrambled  on  up, 
leaving  the  horse.  I  also  dismounted,  kneeled  down, 
and  taking  deliberate  aim,  fired  three  shots  before  he 
reached  the  pines.  I  saw  the  bullets  strike,  and  not  one 
of  them  was  within  ten  feet  of  the  fleeing  mark.  It  was 
about  the  worst  shooting  I  ever  did. 

Of  course,  I  was  not  foolish  enough  to  try  to  hunt 
the  Indian  in  those  thick  pines,  where  he  would  have 
every  advantage  of  me.  His  horse  had  run  down  the 
hill  and  out  on  the  plain.  I  rode  after  it,  and  soon  cap- 
tured it.  Riding  back  to  the  place  where  we  had 
charged  out  of  the  coulee,  I  could  see  members  of  our 
party  coming  in  from  all  directions,  driving  horses  be- 
fore them,  and  soon  we  were  all  together  again.  We 
had  not  lost  a  man,  and  only  one  was  wounded,  a  youth 
named  Tail-feathers;  an  arrow  had  fearfully  lacerated 
his  right  cheek,  and  he  was  puffed  up  with  pride.  Nine 
of  the  enemy  had  fallen,  and  sixty-three  of  their  horses 
had  been  taken.  Every  one  was  jubilant  over  the 
result.  Every  one  was  talking  at  once,  telling  in  de- 
tail what  he  had  done.  I  managed  to  attract  Heavy 
Breast's  attention.  "Who  were  they?"  I  asked. 

"They  were  Crees." 


A  WAR  TRIP  FOR  HORSES  57 

"How  could  you  tell  that  they  were?" 

"Why,  I  understood  some  of  the  words  they  shouted," 
he  replied.  "But  even  if  they  had  not  uttered  a  sound, 
I  would  still  have  recognised  them  by  their  mean  faces 
and  by  their  dress." 

I  rode  over  to  one  of  them  lying  on  the  ground  nearby. 
He  had  been  scalped,  but  I  could  see  that  his  coun- 
tenance was  quite  different  from  a  Blackfoot's  face. 
Besides,  there  were  three  blue  tattooed  marks  on  his 
chin,  and  his  moccasins  and  garments  were  unlike  any- 
thing I  had  seen  before. 

We  changed  horses  and  turned  homeward,  plodding 
along  steadily  all  that  afternoon.  The  excitement  was 
over,  and  the  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  more  pleased  I 
was  that  I  had  not  killed  the  Cree  I  chased  into  the 
pines.  But  the  others;  those  I  had  fired  at  and  seen 
drop;  I  succeeded  in  convincing  myself  that  they  were 
not  my  bullets  that  had  caused  them  to  fall.  Had  I 
not  fired  as  many  as  twenty  shots  at  the  man  I  chased 
and  each  one  had  sped  wide  of  the  mark?  Of  course,  it 
was  not  I  who  laid  them  low.  I  had  captured  a  fine 
horse,  one  stronger  and  more  swift  than  my  own  good 
mount,  and  I  was  satisfied. 

We  got  home  in  the  course  of  four  or  five  days,  and 
you  may  well  believe  that  there  was  great  excitement 
over  our  arrival,  and  many  a  dance  with  the  scalps  by 
those  who  had  at  one  time  or  another  lost  dear  ones  at 
the  hands  of  the  Crees.  Hands  and  faces  and  mocca- 
sins painted  black,  bearing  the  scalps  on  a  willow  stick, 
little  parties  would  go  from  one  part  of  the  village  to 
another,  sing  the  sad  song  of  the  dead,  and  dance  in  step 
to  its  slow  time.  I  thought  it  a  very  impressive  cere- 
mony, and  wish  I  could  remember  the  song,  just  for 
the  sake  of  old  times. 


58  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Dear  old  Berry  and  his  wife  killed  the  fatted  calf  over 
my  safe  return;  at  least  we  had,  besides  choice  meats 
and  bread  and  beans,  three  dried  apple  pies  and  a  plum 
(raisin)  duff  for  dinner.  And  I  will  remark  that  the 
two  latter  courses  were  a  rare  treat  in  those  days  in 
that  country.  I  was  glad  to  get  back  to  the  fort.  How 
cheerful  was  the  blaze  in  the  wide  fireplace  of  my  sleep- 
ing room;  how  soft  my  couch  of  buffalo  robes  and 
blankets!  I  stayed  pretty  close  to  them  for  a  time, 
and  did  nothing  but  sleep  and  eat  and  smoke ;  it  seemed 
as  if  I  would  never  get  enough  sleep. 


CHAPTER  V 

DAYS    WITH    THE    GAME 

WHO  should  roll  in  one  day  but  Sorrel  Horse  and  his 
wife,  with  whom  I  had  passed  the  summer,  and 
with  them  came  young  Bear  Head — once  the  Wol- 
verine— and  his  Gros  Ventre  wife,  whom  I  had  helped 
him  steal  from  her  people.  That  is,  I  went  with  him 
on  that  expedition  to  the  Gros  Ventre  camp,  and  gave 
him  very  good  will  in  his  undertaking  if  nothing  more. 
Berry  and  his  wife  were  as  glad  to  meet  them  all  again 
as  I  was,  and  gave  them  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  fort 
until  such  time  as  Sorrel  Horse  should  have  a  cabin  of 
his  own.  He  had  decided  to  winter  with  us,  trap 
beaver  and  poison  wolves,  and  perhaps  do  a  little  trad- 
ing with  the  Indians.  With  Bear  Head  to  help  him, 
he  soon  built  a  comfortable  two-room  cabin  just  back  of 
our  place,  and  put  in  two  good  fireplaces  like  ours.  I 
was  glad  of  the  fireplaces,  for  I  counted  on  spending 
some  little  time  by  them  in  the  long  winter  evenings  to 
come.  Nothing  on  earth  gives  one  such  a  sense  of  rest 
and  abiding  peace  as  a  cheerful  blaze  in  a  wide  fireplace 
when  cold  weather  comes,  and  blizzards  from  the  north 
sweep  down  over  the  land. 

Among  other  things,  I  had  brought  west  with  me  a 
shotgun,  and,  now  that  the  geese  and  ducks  were  mov- 
ing south,  I  had  some  very  good  shooting.  Whenever 
I  went  out  for  a  few  birds  a  number  of  Indians  always 
followed  me  to  see  the  sport ;  they  took  as  much  delight 

59 


60  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

in  seeing  a  bird  fall  at  the  crack  of  the  gun  as  I  did  in 
making  the  shot.  Once  I  dropped  eleven  widgeons  from 
a  flock  passing  by,  and  the  onlookers  went  wild  with 
enthusiasm  over  it.  But  I  could  never  induce  them  to 
accept  any  of  the  fowl  I  killed ;  birds  and  fish  they  would 
not  eat,  regarding  the  latter  especially  as  unclean.  All 
they  cared  for  was  ni-tap-i  wak-sin:  real  food,  by  which 
was  meant  the  meat  of  buffalo  and  the  various  other 
ruminants. 

In  November  many  of  the  Blackfeet  proper  came 
down  from  the  north,  where  they  had  been  summering 
along  the  Saskatchewan  and  its  tributaries,  and  fol- 
lowing them  came  the  Kai-na,  or  Bloods,  another  tribe 
of  the  Blackfeet.  The  latter  went  into  camp  a  mile 
below  the  Piegans,  and  the  former  pitched  their  lodges 
about  half  a  mile  above  our  fort.  We  now  had,  in- 
cluding women  and  children,  something  like  9,000  or 
10,000  Indians  about  us,  and  the  traders  were  kept  busy 
all  day  long.  Buffalo  robes  were  not  yet  prime — the 
fur  did  not  get  its  full  growth  until  about  the  first  of 
November — but  a  fair  trade  was  done  in  beaver,  elk,  deer, 
and  antelope  skins.  About  the  only  groceries  the  Indians 
bought  were  tea,  sugar,  and  coffee,  and  they  cost  them, 
on  an  average,  one  dollar  per  pint  cupful.  Blankets — 
three-point — were  twenty  dollars;  or  four  prime  head- 
and-tail  buffalo  robes,  each;  a  rifle,  costing  fifteen  dollars, 
sold  for  one  hundred  dollars ;  whisky — very  weak — was 
five  dollars  per  quart,  and  even  a  package  of  Chinese  ver- 
milion sold  for  two  dollars.  There  was  certainly  profit 
in  the  trade.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  not 
a  single  thing  in  the  trader's  stock  that  was  not  an 
unnecessary  article  of  luxury  to  the  Indian.  The 
trader's  argument  was  something  like  this:  The 
Indians  don't  need  these  things,  but  if  they  will  have 


DAYS  WITH  THE  GAME  61 

them,  they  must  pay  my  price  for  them.  I'm  not  risking 
my  life  in  this  business  for  anything  but  big  profits. 

Of  course  Berry  did  not  expect  to  get  all  the  trade 
of  the  three  great  camps.  Parties  were  continually 
going  into  Fort  Benton  with  robes  and  furs,  indeed, 
the  larger  part  of  the  trade  went  there;  nevertheless, 
the  little  fort  on  the  Marias  did  a  fine  business. 

Winter  came  early  that  year,  in  the  fore  part  of 
November.  The  lakes  and  streams  froze  over,  there 
were  several  falls  of  snow,  which  the  northwest  winds 
gathered  up  and  piled  in  coule'es  and  on  the  lee  side  of 
the  hills.  It  was  not  long  before  the  buffalo  began  to 
keep  away  from  the  river,  where  the  big  camps  were. 
A  few,  of  course,  were  always  straggling  in,  but  the 
great  herds  stayed  out  on  the  plains  to  the  north  and 
south  of  us.  After  the  snow  fell  they  went  no  more  to 
water  anyhow,  as  they  got  enough  of  it  in  the  form  of 
snow,  eaten  with  the  grass.  So  long  as  they  took  water 
in  this  way  they  remained  fat,  no  matter  how  long  and 
severe  the  winter  was;  but  as  soon  as  the  snow  began 
to  melt  and  water  stood  everywhere  on  the  plains  in 
little  pools,  they  drank  it  and  lost  flesh  rapidly.  Since 
the  buffalo  came  no  more  near  the  stream  the  Indians 
were  obliged  to  go  out  on  a  two  or  three  days'  camping 
trip,  in  order  to  get  what  meat  and  skins  they  needed, 
and  several  times  during  the  season  I  went  with  them, 
accompanying  my  friends,  Weasel  Tail  and  Talks-with- 
the-buffalo.  On  these  short  hunts  few  lodges  were 
taken,  fifteen  or  twenty  people  arranging  to  camp 
together,  so  we  were  somewhat  crowded  for  room.  Only 
enough  women  to  do  the  cooking  accompanied  the  outfit. 

As  a  rule,  the  hunters  started  out  together  every  morn- 
ing, and  sighting  a  large  herd  of  buffalo,  approached 
them  as  cautiously  as  possible,  until  finally  the  animals 


6*  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

became  alarmed  and  started  to  run,  and  then  a  grand 
chase  took  place,  and  if  everything  was  favourable 
many  fat  cows  were  killed.  Nearly  all  the  Piegans  had 
guns  of  one  kind  or  another;  either  flint-lock  or  per- 
cussion-cap, smooth-bore  or  rifle;  but  in  the  chase  many 
of  them,  especially  if  riding  swift,  trained  horses,  pre- 
ferred to  use  the  bow  and  arrow,  as  two  or  three  arrows 
could  be  discharged  at  as  many  different  animals  while 
one  was  reloading  a  gun.  And  yet  those  old  smooth- 
bores were  quickly  loaded.  The  hunter  carried  a  num- 
ber of  balls  in  his  mouth;  as  soon  as  his  piece  was  dis- 
charged he  poured  a  quantity  of  powder  from  the  horn 
or  flask  into  his  hand  and  thence  down  the  barrel; 
then  taking  a  ball  from  his  mouth  he  dropped  it  down 
on  top  of  the  powder,  gave  the  stock  a  couple  of  sharp 
blows  to  settle  the  charge,  and  primed  the  pan  or  put 
on  the  cap,  as  the  case  might  be.  When  loaded  in  this 
manner  the  piece  had  to  be  held  muzzle  up  else  the  ball 
would  roll  out;  and  when  ready  to  shoot  the  hunter 
fired  the  instant  he  brought  the  gun  down  to  the  level 
of  the  mark.  Some  of  the  hunters — fine  shots  and 
astride  exceptionally  swift  and  long-winded  horses — 
often  killed  twenty  and  even  more  buffalo  on  a  single 
run,  but  I  think  the  average  number  to  the  man  was  not 
more  than  three.  After  one  of  these  hunts  the  main 
camp  was  a  sanguinary  sight.  There  were  string  atfer 
string  of  pack  horses  loaded  down  with  meat  and  hides, 
and  some  hunters  even  slung  a  hide  or  two  or  a  lot  of 
meat  across  their  saddles  and  perched  themselves  on  top 
of  that.  There  was  blood  everywhere;  on  the  horses, 
along  the  trail,  on  the  clothing,  and  even  on  the  faces 
of  the  hunters. 

I  went  on  several  of  these  hunts  when  the  weather  was 
so  cold  that  a  buffalo  hide  froze  stiff  as  it  dropped  away 


DAYS  WITH  THE  GAME  63 

from  the  cut  of  the  knife;  yet,  the  Indians  skinned  their 
quarry  bare-handed.  I  wore  the  heaviest  of  undercloth- 
ing, a  thick  flannel  shirt,  a  buckskin  shirt,  coat,  and 
waistcoat,  a  short  buffalo  robe  overcoat,  and  buffalo 
robe  "shaps,"  and  even  then  there  were  times  when  I 
was  uncomfortably  cold,  and  my  cheeks  and  nose  be- 
came sore  from  frequent  nippings  of  frost.  The  In- 
dians wore  only  a  couple  of  shirts,  a  pair  of  blankets  or 
cowskin  leggins,  fur  cap,  buffalo  robe  gloves  and  moc- 
casins— no  socks.  Yet  they  never  froze,  nor  even 
shivered  from  the  cold.  They  attributed  their  indif- 
ference to  exposure  to  the  beneficial  effect  of  their  daily 
baths,  which  were  always  taken,  even  if  a  hole  had  to 
be  cut  in  the  ice  for  the  purpose.  And  they  forced  their 
children  to  accompany  them,  little  fellows  from  three 
years  of  age  up,  dragging  the  unwilling  ones  from  their 
beds  and  carrying  them  under  their  arms  to  the  icy 
plunge. 

When  on  these  short  hunts  there  was  no  gambling  nor 
dancing.  Some  medicine  man  always  accompanied  a 
party,  and  the  evenings  were  passed  in  praying  to  the 
Sun  for  success  in  the  hunt,  and  in  singing  what  I  may 
term  songs  of  the  hunt,  especially  the  song  of  the  wolf, 
the  most  successful  of  hunters.  Everyone  retired  early, 
for  there  was  little  cheer  in  a  fire  of  buffalo  chips. 

You  have  perhaps  noticed  on  the  northwestern  plains, 
circles  of  stones  or  small  boulders,  varying  in  size  from 
twelve  to  twenty  and  more  feet  in  diameter.  They  were 
used  to  weight  the  lower  edge  of  lodge  skins,  to  prevent 
the  structure  being  blown  over  by  a  hard  wind,  and  when 
camp  was  moved  they  were  simply  rolled  off  the 
leather.  Many  of  these  circles  are  found  miles  and  miles 
from  any  water,  and  you  may  have  wondered  how  the 
people  there  encamped  managed  to  assuage  their  thirst; 


64  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

they  melted  snow;  their  horses  ate  snow  with  the  grass; 
buffalo  chips  were  used  for  fuel.  The  stone  circles  mark 
the  place  of  an  encampment  of  winter  hunters  in  the 
long  ago.  Some  of  them  are  so  ancient  that  the  tops  of 
the  stones  are  barely  visible  above  the  turf,  having 
gradually  sunk  into  the  ground  of  their  own  weight 
during  successive  wet  seasons. 

By  the  latter  end  of  November  the  trade  for  robes  was 
in  full  swing,  thousands  of  buffalo  had  been  killed,  and 
the  women  were  busily  engaged  in  tanning  the  hides,  a 
task  of  no  little  labour.  I  have  often  heard  and  read 
that  Indian  women  received  no  consideration  from  their 
husbands,  and  led  a  life  of  exceedingly  hard  and  thankless 
work.  That  is  very  wide  of  the  truth  so  far  as  the  na- 
tives of  the  northern  plains  were  concerned.  It  is  true, 
that  the  women  gathered  fuel  for  the  lodge — bundles  of 
dry  willow,  or  limbs  from  a  fallen  cottonwood.  They 
also  did  the  cooking,  and  besides  tanning  robes,  con- 
verted the  skins  of  deer,  elk,  antelope,  and  mountain 
sheep  into  soft  buckskin  for  family  use.  But  never  a 
one  of  them  suffered  from  overwork;  when  they  felt 
like  it  they  rested;  they  realised  that  there  were  other 
days  coming,  and  they  took  their  time  about  anything 
they  had  to  do.  Their  husbands  never  interfered  with 
them,  any  more  than  they  did  with  him  in  his  task  of 
providing  the  hides  and  skins  and  meat,  the  staff  of 
life.  The  majority — nearly  all  of  them — were  natur- 
ally industrious  and  took  pride  in  their  work;  they  joyed 
in  putting  away  parfleche  after  parfleche  of  choice  dried 
meats  and  pemmican,  in  tanning  soft  robes  and  buck- 
skins for  home  use  or  sale,  in  embroidering  wonderful 
patterns  of  beads  or  coloured  porcupine  quills  upon 
moccasin  tops,  dresses,  leggings,  and  saddle  trappings. 
When  robes  were  to  be  traded  they  got  their  share  of 


DAYS  WITH  THE  GAME  65 

the  proceeds;  if  the  husband  chose  to  buy  liquor,  well 
and  good,  they  bought  blankets  and  red  and  blue  trade 
cloth,  vermilion,  beads,  bright  prints,  and  various  other 
articles  of  use  and  adornment. 

Berry  and  some  of  his  men  made  several  flying  trips 
to  Fort  Benton  during  the  winter,  and  on  one  of  them 
brought  out  his  mother,  who  had  been  living  there  with 
her  companion,  the  Crow  Woman.  Mrs.  Berry,  ST., 
was  a  full-blooded  Mandan,  but  very  light-coloured, 
and  brown-haired.  She  was  tall  and  .  slender,  good- 
looking,  very  proud  and  dignified,  but  of  great  kind- 
ness of  heart.  She  was  very  good  to  me,  nursing  me 
when  ill  and  giving  me  strange  and  bitter  medicines, 
always  picking  up  and  putting  away  with  care  the 
things  I  scattered  about,  washing  and  mending  my 
clothes,  making  for  me  beautiful  moccasins  and  warm 
gloves.  She  could  not  have  done  more  had  she  been  my 
own  mother;  I  was  under  obligations  to  her  which 
nothing  could  ever  repay.  When  I  contracted  moun- 
tain fever,  and  one  evening  became  delirious,  it  was  she 
who  tended  me,  and  brought  me  safely  out  of  it.  Her 
companion,  the  Crow  Woman,  was  equally  kind  to  me. 
She  was  a  woman  with  a  romance,  and  one  evening,  after 
I  became  well  acquainted  with  her,  she  told  me  the 
story  of  her  life  as  we  sat  before  the  fire. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    STORY    OF    THE    CROW    WOMAN 

IS-SAP-AH'-KI— Crow  Woman— as  the  Blackfeet 
named  her,  was  an  Arickaree,  of  a  tribe  which, 
in  the  days  of  Catlin,  who  visited  the  tribes  in  1832, 
lived  some  distance  below  the  Mandans,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Missouri.  Like  the  Mandans,  they  lived  in  a 
village  of  mound-like  earth-covered  lodges,  surrounded 
by  a  strong  and  high  palisade  of  cottonwood  logs  stuck 
endwise  into  the  ground.  They  were  members  of  the 
widely  scattered  Pawnee,  or  Caddoan  family,  but  they 
had  been  long  separated  from  the  parent  stock.  They 
could  converse  with  the  Crows,  who  are  related  to  the 
Gros  Ventres  of  the  village.  Their  own  language — 
like  the  Mandan — was  an  extremely  difficult  one  for  an 
outlander  to  learn.  The  Crows  and  Arickarees  were  at 
times  on  terms  of  friendship,  and  again  there  were  long 
periods  when  they  were  at  war  with  each  other. 

The  Crow  Woman  married  early.  She  must  have 
been  a  very  handsome  girl,  for  even  in  her  old  age,  when 
I  knew  her,  although  wrinkled  and  gray-haired,  she  was 
still  good-looking.  She  had  lovely  eyes,  sparkling  and 
mischievous,  and  her  temperament  was  a  most  happy 
one.  After  many  and  bitter  experiences  she  had  at 
last  found,  with  her  good  friend  Mrs.  Berry,  a  haven  of 
peace  and  plenty  which  was  assured  to  her  so  long  as 
she  lived.  This  is  the  story  she  told  me  as  we  sat  be- 
fore the  fireplace,  that  winter  night  so  many  years  ago: 

"We  were  very  happy,  my  young  husband  and  I,  for 

66 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN       67 

we  truly  lovedeach  other.  He  was  a  good  hunter, always 
keeping  our  lodge  well  supplied  with  meat  and  skins,  and 
I,  too,  worked  hard  in  the  summer  planting,  and  watering 
as  they  grew,  a  nice  patch  of  beans  and  corn  and  pump- 
kins; in  the  winter  I  tanned  many  robes  and  many 
buckskins  for  our  use.  We  had  been  married  two 
winters ;  summer  came,  and  for  some  reason  the  buffalo 
left  the  river,  all  except  a  few  old  bulls,  and  remained 
away  out  on  the  plains.  My  people  did  not  like  to  hunt 
out  there,  for  we  were  only  a  small  tribe;  our  men  were 
brave,  but  what  could  a  few  of  them  do  against  a  great 
band  of  our  many  enemies?  So  some  were  content  to 
remain  safely  at  home  and  eat  the  tough  meat  of  the 
straggling  bulls;  but  others,  more  brave,  made  up  a 
party  to  go  out  where  the  great  herds  were.  My  hus- 
band and  I  went  with  them ;  he  did  not  want  me  to  go, 
but  I  insisted  upon  it.  Since  we  had  been  married  we 
had  not  been  separated  even  for  one  night;  where  he 
went  I  had  sworn  to  go  also.  Our  party  travelled 
southward  all  day  over  the  green-grassed  plain;  along 
toward  evening  we  saw  many  bands  of  buffalo,  so  many 
that  the  country  was  dark  with  them;  we  rode  down 
into  a  little  valley,  and  made  camp  by  a  stream  bordered 
by  cottonwoods  and  willows. 

"  Our  horses  were  not  very  strong,  for  always  at  night 
they  were  driven  inside  the  stockade  of  our  village,  and, 
feeding  daily  over  the  same  ground  outside,  they  soon 
tramped  and  ate  off  the  grass;  they  had  no  chance  to 
become  fat.  Some  enemy  or  other  was  always  prowling 
around  our  village  at  night,  and  we  could  not  let  them 
remain  outside  and  wander  to  where  the  feed  was  good. 

From  our  camp  by  the  creek  we  started  out  every  morn- 
ing, the  women  following  the  men,  who  carefully  looked 
over  the  country  and  then  went  after  that  band  of 


68  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

buffalo  which  could  be  most  surely  approached.  Then, 
when  they  had  made  the  run,  we  rode  out  to  where  the 
great  animals  lay  and  helped  skin  and  cut  up  the  meat. 
When  we  got  back  to  camp  we  were  busy  until  evening 
cutting  the  meat  into  thin  sheets  and  hanging  it  up  to 
dry  in  the  wind  and  the  sun.  Thus  for  three  mornings 
we  went  out,  and  our  camp  began  to  look  red;  you  could 
see  the  red  from  afar,  the  red  meat  drying.  We  were 
very  happy. 

"I  was  proud  of  my  husband.  He  was  always  in 
the  lead;  the  first  to  reach  the  buffalo,  the  last  one  to 
quit  the  chase,  and  he  killed  more  of  them — always  fine 
fat  animals  — than  any  other  one  of  the  party.  And  he 
was  so  generous ;  did  anyone  fail  to  make  a  kill  he  would 
call  to  him  and  give  him  one,  sometimes  two,  of  his  own 
kill. 

"  On  the  fourth  morning  we  went  out  soon  after  sun- 
rise, and  only  a  little  way  from  camp  the  men  made  a 
run  and  killed  many  buffalo.  My  husband  shot  down 
nine.  We  were  all  hard  at  work  skinning  them  and 
getting  the  meat  in  shape  to  pack  home,  when  we  saw 
those  who  were  at  the  far  end  of  the  running  ground 
hurriedly  mount  their  horses  and  ride  swiftly  toward 
us  with  cries  of  'The  enemy!  the  enemy!'  Then  we 
also  saw  them,  many  men  on  swift  horses  riding  down 
upon  us,  their  long  war  bonnets  fluttering  in  the  wind ; 
and  they  were  singing  the  war  song ;  it  sounded  terrible 
in  our  ears.  They  were  so  many,  our  men  so  few,  there 
was  no  use  in  trying  to  make  a  stand  against  them.  We 
all  mounted  our  horses,  our  leader  shouting:  'Ride 
for  the  timber  at  the  camp ;  it  is  our  only  chance.  Take 
courage;  ride,  ride  fast.' 

"  I  whipped  my  horse  as  hard  as  I  could  and  pounded 
his  sides  with  my  heels;  my  husband  rode  close  beside 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN       69 

me  also  whipping  him,  but  the  poor  thing  could  go  only 
so  fast,  the  enemy  were  getting  nearer  and  nearer  all  the 
time.  And  then,  suddenly,  my  husband  gave  a  little 
cry  of  pain,  threw  up  his  hands,  and  tumbled  off  on  to 
the  ground.  When  I  saw  that  I  stopped  my  horse,  got 
down,  and  ran  to  him  and  lifted  his  head  and  shoulders 
into  my  lap.  He  was  dying;  blood  was  running  from 
his  mouth  in  a  stream ;  yet  he  made  out  to  say :  'Take 
my  horse;  go  quick;  you  can  outride  them.' 

"  I  would  not  do  that.  If  he  died  I  wanted  to  die  also ; 
the  enemy  could  kill  me  there  beside  him.  I  heard  the 
thunder  of  their  horses'  feet  as  they  came  on,  and  cover- 
ing my  head  with  my  robe  I  bent  over  my  husband,  who 
was  now  dead.  I  expected  to  be  shot  or  struck  with  a 
war  club,  and  I  was  glad  for  whither  my  dear  one's 
shadow  went,  there  I  would  follow.  But  no ;  they  passed 
swiftly  by  us  and  I  could  hear  shots  and  cries  and  the 
singing  of  the  war  song  as  they  rode  on  into  the  distance. 
Then  in  a  little  while  I  heard  again  the  trampling  of  a 
horse,  and  looking  up  I  saw  a  tall  man,  a  man  full  of 
years,  looking  down  at  me.  'Ah,'  he  said,  'I  made  a 
good  shot;  it  was  a  long  way,  but  my  gun  held  straight.' 

"He  was  a  Crow,  and  I  could  talk  with  him.  'Yes, 
you  have  killed  my  poor  husband;  now  have  pity  and 
kill  me,  too.' 

"He  laughed.  'What?'  he  said,  'kill  such  a  pretty 
young  woman  as  you?  Oh,  no.  I  will  take  you  home 
with  me  and  you  shall  be  my  wife.' 

"  'I  will  not  be  your  wife.  I  will  kill  myself,'  I  be- 
gan, but  he  stopped  me.  'You  will  go  with  me  and  do 
as  I  say,'  he  continued,  'but  first  I  must  take  the  scalp 
of  this,  my  enemy.' 

"  'Oh,  no,'  I  cried,  springing  up  as  he  dismounted. 
'Oh,  do  not  scalp  him.  Let  me  bury  him,  and  I  will  do 


70  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

anything  you  say.  I  will  work  for  you,  I  will  be  your 
slave,  only  let  me  bury  this  poor  body  where  the  wolves 
and  the  birds  cannot  touch  it.' 

"He  laughed  again,  and  got  up  into  the  saddle.  'I 
take  your  word,'  he  said.  'I  go  to  catch  a  horse  for  you 
and  then  you  can  take  the  body  down  to  the  timber  by 
your  camp.' 

"  And  so  it  was  done.  I  wrapped  my  dear  one  in  robes 
and  lashed  the  body  on  a  platform  which  I  built  in  a 
tree  by  the  little  stream,  and  I  was  very  sad.  It  was  a 
long,  long  time,  many  winters,  before  I  took  courage 
and  found  life  worth  living. 

"The  man  who  had  captured  me  was  a  chief,  owning 
a  great  herd  of  horses,  a  fine  lodge,  many  rich  things; 
and  he  had  six  wives.  These  women  stared  very  hard 
at  me  when  we  came  to  the  camp,  and  the  head  wife 
pointed  to  a  place  beside  the  doorway  and  said:  Tut 
your  robe  and  things  there.'  She  did  not  smile,  nor 
did  any  of  the  others;  they  all  looked  very  cross,  and 
they  never  became  friendly  to  me.  I  was  given  all  of 
the  hardest  work;  worst  of  all,  they  made  me  chip  hides 
for  them,  and  they  would  tan  them  into  robes;  every 
day  this  was  my  work  when  I  was  not  gathering  wood  or 
bringing  water  to  the  lodge.  One  day  the  chief  asked 
me  whose  robe  it  was  I  was  chipping,  and  I  told  him. 
The  next  day,  and  the  next,  he  asked  me  the  same 
question,  and  I  told  him  that  this  hide  belonged  to  one 
of  his  wives,  that  to  another,  and  so  on.  Then  he  be- 
came angry,  and  scolded  his  wives.  'You  will  give  her 
no  more  of  your  work  to  do,'  he  said.  'Chip  your  own 
hides,  gather  your  share  of  wood;  mind  what  I  say,  for 
I  shall  not  tell  you  this  again.' 

"This  Crow  chief  was  a  kind  man,  and  very  good  to 
me;  but  I  could  not  like  him.  I  turned  cold  at  his 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN        71 

touch.  How  could  I  like  him  when  I  was  always  mourn- 
ing so  for  the  one  who  was  gone? 

"We  travelled  about  a  great  deal.  The  Crows  owned 
so  many  horses  that  after  camp  was  all  packed  and 
lodge  poles  trailed,  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  fat,  strong 
animals  were  left  without  a  burden  of  any  kind.  Once 
there  was  talk  of  making  peace  with  my  people,  and  I 
was  very  glad,  for  I  longed  to  be  with  them  again.  A 
council  was  held,  and  it  was  decided  to  send  two  young 
men  with  tobacco  to  the  chief  of  the  Arickaree  and  ask 
that  peace  be  declared.  The  messengers  went,  but  they 
never  returned.  After  waiting  three  moons  (months) 
for  them,  it  was  thought  that  they  had  been  killed  by 
those  whom  they  went  to  visit.  Then  we  left  the  Elk 
River  (Yellowstone)  and  moved  to  the  upper  part  of 
Dried  Meat  River  (Musselshell).  This  was  the  fifth 
summer  after  my  capture.  It  was  berry  time  and  the 
bushes  were  loaded  with  ripe  fruit,  which  we  women 
gathered  in  large  quantities  and  dried  for  winter  use. 
We  went  out  one  day  to  some  thickets  on  the  north 
slope  of  the  valley,  some  distance  from  camp,  where 
there  were  more  berries  than  at  any  other  place  we  had 
found.  There  had  been  trouble  in  our  lodge  that  morn- 
ing; while  my  captor — I  never  could  call  him  my  hus- 
band— was  eating,  he  asked  to  see  the  amount  of  ber- 
ries we  had  gathered;  his  wives  brought  out  their  stores, 
the  head  woman  five  sacks  of  them,  the  others  two  and 
three  each.  I  had  but  one  sack,  and  another  partly 
full,  to  show.  'How  is  this?'  the  chief  asked.  'Has 
my  little  Arickaree  wife  become  lazy?' 

"  'I  am  not  lazy,'  I  answered,  angrily.  'I  have 
picked  a  great  quantity  of  berries;  and  every  evening 
I  have  spread  them  out  to  dry,  covering  them  well  after 
sunset  so  that  the  night  dew  would  not  injure  them; 


72  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

but  in  the  morning,  when  I  have  removed  the  covers 
and  exposed  them  to  the  sun's  heat,  I  have  found  many, 
very  many  less  than  I  had  placed  there.  This  has  hap- 
pened every  night  since  we  came  to  camp  here.' 

"  'That  is  strange,'  he  said.  'Who  could  have  taken 
them?  Do  you  women  know  anything  about  it?'  he 
asked  his  wives. 

"They  said  that  they  did  not. 

"  'You  lie,'  he  cried,  angrily,  rising  from  his  seat  and 
pushing  his  head  wife  back  out  of  his  way.  'Here, 
little  woman,  are  your  berries;  I  saw  them  stealing  them' ; 
and  from  the  head  wife  he  took  two  sacks,  from  the 
others  one  each,  and  threw  them  over  to  me. 

"Oh,  those  women  were  angry.  They  did  not  speak 
to  me  all  that  morning,  but  if  looks  could  have  killed 
me,  then  I  would  have  died,  for  they  scowled  at  me  all 
the  time.  When  the  chief  drove  in  the  horses  each 
caught  the  one  she  wanted  and  rode  out  to  the  berry  patch. 

"The  five  kept  close  together  that  day,  leaving  me  to 
go  by  myself ;  and  if  I  went  near  them  they  would  move 
away  to  some  distant  bushes.  Some  time  after  mid- 
day they  began  to  move  toward  me,  and  in  a  little  time 
they  were  at  work  all  around  close  by.  Still  they  did  not 
speak,  nor  did  I.  My  little  sack  was  again  full;  I 
stooped  over  to  empty  the  berries  into  a  larger  sack; 
something  struck  me  a  terrible  blow  on  the  head;  I 
knew  no  more. 

"When  I  came  back  to  life  the  sun  was  setting.  I  was 
alone,  my  horse  was  gone,  and  my  large  berry  sack  was 
missing;  the  small  one,  empty,  lay  by  my  side.  I  was 
very  dizzy,  very  sick.  I  felt  of  my  head;  there  was  a 
great  swelling  on  it,  and  much  dried  blood  in  my  hair. 
I  sat  up  to  better  look  around  and  heard  some  one  cal- 
ling me,  the  tramp  of  a  horse,  and  then  the  chief  rode 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN        73 

up  beside  me  and  dismounted.  He  didn't  say  any- 
thing at  first,  just  felt  of  my  head  carefully,  and  of  my 
arms,  and  then:  'They  said  that  they  could  not  find 
you  when  they  were  ready  to  return  to  camp ;  that  you 
had  run  away.  I  knew  better.  I  knew  that  I  would 
find  you  here,  but  I  thought  to  find  you  dead.' 

"  'I  wish  I  were,'  I  said,  and  then  for  the  first  time  I 
cried.  Oh,  how  lonely  I  felt.  The  chief  lifted  me  up 
into  his  saddle  and  got  on  the  horse  behind  me,  and  we 
rode  home  to  the  lodge.  When  we  went  inside  the  wives 
just  glanced  at  me  quickly,  and  then  looked  away.  I 
was  about  to  lie  down  on  my  couch  by  the  doorway 
when  the  chief  said:  'Come  here,  here  by  my  side  is 
now  your  place.  And  you,'  to  his  head  wife,  giving  her 
a  hard  push,  'you  will  take  her  couch  by  the  doorway.' 

"That  was  all.  He  never  accused  his  wives  of  at- 
tempting to  kill  me  but  from  that  time  he  treated  them 
coldly,  never  jesting  nor  laughing  with  them  as  he  had 
been  used  to  doing.  And  whenever  he  left  camp  to 
hunt,  or  to  look  for  stray  horses  from  his  herd,  I  had  to 
accompany  him.  He  would  never  leave  me  alone  for 
a  day  with  the  others.  Thus  it  came  about  that  when 
he  prepared  to  go  with  some  of  his  friends  .on  a  raid 
against  the  northern  tribes  I  was  told  to  get  ready  also. 
It  did  not  take  me  long;  I  packed  my  awl,  needles,  and 
sinew  thread  in  a  little  pouch,  made  some  pemmican 
and  was  ready. 

"We  were  a  small  party,  fifteen  men,  and  one  other 
woman,  newly  married  to  a  great  war  leader.  It  was  not 
proposed  to  make  any  attack  upon  our  enemy,  but  to 
travel  cautiously  through  the  country  and  raid  the  herds 
of  the  first  camp  we  found.  We  went  on  foot,  travelling 
by  night  and  sleeping  during  a  part  of  the  long,  hot 
days.  After  many  nights  we  arrived  at  the  Big  Rivei 


74  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

(Missouri)  above  the  falls,  right  opposite  where  the  Point- 
of-Rocks  River  (Sun  River)  joins  it.  Day  light  had  come ; 
looking  up  the  valley  of  the  little  river  we  could  see  the 
lodges  of  a  great  camp,  and  band  after  band  of  horses 
striking  out  into  the  hills  to  graze.  Near  us  was  a 
coulde  where  grew  thick  clumps  of  willows,  we  hurried 
to  hide  in  them  before  we  should  be  seen  by  any  early 
risers  of  the  strange  camp. 

"The  men  held  a  long  talk,  planning  just  what  to  do. 
They  finally  decided  that  it  would  be  best  for  us  to  all 
cross  the  river  and  then,  after  taking  some  of  the  best 
horses  in  the  camp,  strike  out  eastward  instead  of  re- 
crossing  right  there.  By  going  east  for  some  distance 
before  crossing  back,  it  was  thought  that  the  enemy, 
should  they  follow  us,  would  think  us  Crees  or  Assina- 
boins.  On  some  high,  dry,  well-grassed  place  we  were 
to  turn  and  head  for  home.  There  the  enemy  would 
lose  our  trail,  and  keep  on  in  the  direction  we  had  been 
travelling,  while  we  could  go  homeward  by  easy  rides, 
without  fear  of  being  overtaken. 

"Soon  after  nightfall  we  crossed  the  river,  going  up 
the  shore  until  we  found  a  couple  of  big  logs  left  by  the 
high  water.  The  men  rolled  them  into  the  stream, 
lashed  them  together,  placed  their  weapons  and  clothes 
and  us  two  women  on  the  raft  and  then,  hanging  on  with 
one  hand,  and  paddling  with  the  other  and  kicking  hard, 
they  soon  got  it  safely  across.  As  soon  as  we  were 
landed  they  took  off  the  lashings,  pushed  the  logs  out 
into  the  current,  and  carefully  washed  out  our  foot- 
prints on  the  muddy  shore.  We  had  landed  just  be- 
low the  mouth  of  Point-of-Rocks  River,  at  the  edge  of 
a  choke-cherry  thicket,  and  there  we  two  women  were 
told  to  remain  until  the  men  returned.  Each  of  them 
was  to  enter  the  camp  for  himself,  cut  loose  such  horses 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN        75 

as  he  could,  and  all  were  to  meet  as  soon  as  possible  at 
the  thicket  there.  They  started  off  right  away,  and  we 
two  sat  down  to  await  their  return.  We  talked  a  little 
while  and  then  fell  asleep,  for  we  were  both  very  tired 
from  our  long  journey,  and  at  no  time  had  we  slept  as 
long  as  we  wished  to.  After  a  time  I  was  awakened  by 
the  howling  of  some  wolves  nearby;  I  looked  up  at  the 
Seven  Persons  (the  Great  Dipper)  and  saw  by  their 
position  that  it  was  past  the  middle  of  the  night.  I 
aroused  my  companion  and  we  talked  again  for  a  time, 
wondering  why  none  of  the  men  had  returned,  saying 
that  perhaps  there  was  some  late  dancing,  or  gambling, 
or  feasting  in  the  strange  camp,  and  that  they  were 
waiting  until  all  should  be  quiet  before  entering  it. 
Then  we  slept  again. 

"The  sun  was  shining  when  we  awoke,  and  we  sprang 
up  and  looked  about  us ;  none  of  our  party  had  returned ; 
we  became  frightened.  We  went  to  the  edge  of  the  brush 
and  looked  out;  away  up  the  valley  we  could  see  the 
horse  herds  again,  and  riders  here  and  there  travelling 
on  the  hills.  I  felt  certain  that  the  men  had  been  dis- 
covered and  killed,  or  had  been  chased  so  hard  that  they 
could  not  return  to  us.  So,  also,  thought  my  com- 
panion. We  believed  that  as  soon  as  night  fell  again 
some  of  them  would  come  for  us.  There  was  nothing 
for  us  to  do  but  remain  where  we  were.  It  was  a  long, 
long  day.  We  had  no  food,  but  that  did  not  matter. 
My  companion  was  terribly  worried.  'Perhaps  my 
husband  has  been  killed,'  she  kept  saying.  'Oh,  if  he 
has  what  shall  I  do?' 

"'I  know  how  you  feel,'  I  said,  'I,  too,  once  had  a 
dear  husband  and  I  lost  him.' 

'"But  don't  you  love  your  Crow  husband?'  she 
asked. 


76  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"'He  is  not  my  husband,'  I  replied.     'I  am  his  slave.' 

"We  went  to  the  river,  washed  ourselves,  and  then 
returned  to  the  edge  of  the  brush,  where  we  could  look  out, 
and  sat  down.  My  companion  began  to  cry.  'Oh,' 
she  said,  'if  they  do  not  return  here,  if  they  have  been 
killed,  what  shall  we  do?' 

"  I  had  already  thdught  of  that,  and  I  told  her  that 
far  to  the  east  on  the  banks  of  the  Big  River  my  people 
lived,  and  I  would  follow  it  until  I  found  them.  There 
were  plenty  of  berries ;  I  could  snare  the  brush  rabbits ; 
I  had  flint  and  steel  and  could  make  a  fire.  I  was  sure 
I  could  make  the  long  journey  unless  some  accident 
happened.  But  I  was  not  to  attempt  it.  Some  time 
after  middle  day  we  saw  two  riders  coming  along  down 
the  edge  of  Point-of -Rocks  River,  stopping  here  and 
there  to  get  off  their  horses  and  look  at  the  shore;  they 
were  trapping  beaver.  We  crawled  back  into  the  centre 
of  the  brush  and  lay  down,  terribly  scared,  scarcely  dar- 
ing to  breathe.  The  thicket  was  all  criss-crossed  by 
wide  buffalo  trails,  there  was  no  good  place  to  hide;  if 
the  trappers  should  enter  it?  They  did,  and  they 
found  us;  and  one  seized  me  and  the  other  took  my 
companion.  They  made  us  get  up  on  their  horses  and 
brought  us  to  their  lodges.  All  the  people  crowded 
around  to  look  at  us.  This  was  not  new  to  me,  and  I 
just  looked  back  at  them,  but  my  friend  covered  her 
head  with  her  robe  and  wept  loudly. 

"This  was  the  Blood  tribe  of  the  Blackfeet.  I  could 
not  understand  their  language,  but  I  could  hand  talk 
(the  sign  language).  The  man  who  had  captured  me 
began  to  ask  questions.  Who  was  I,  where  was  I  from, 
what  was  I  doing  down  there  in  the  brush?  I  told  him. 
Then  he  told  me  that  his  people  had  surprised  a  war 
party  sneaking  into  camp  in  the  night,  had  killed  four 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CROW  WOMAN        77 

of  them,  and  pursued  the  others  to  the  breaks  of  the 
river  below,  where  they  managed  to  get  away  in  the  deep, 
dark  cut  coulees. 

"  'Was  one  of  those  you  killed,'  I  asked,  'a  tall  man 
who  wore  a  real  bear's  (grizzly)  claw  necklace?' 

"  He  made  the  sign  for  yes. 

"Then  my  Crow  chief  was  dead!  I  cannot  tell  you 
just  how  I  felt.  He  had  been  good  to  me,  very  kind. 
But  he,  or  those  with  him,  had  killed  my  young  husband ; 
that  I  could  not  forget.  I  thought  of  his  five  wives; 
they  would  not  miss  him,  all  the  great  horse  herd  would 
be  theirs ;  they  would  be  glad  when  I,  too,  did  not  return. 

"You  have  seen  Deaf  Man,  the  Blood  who  was  here 
talking  with  me  to-day.  I  lived  in  his  lodge  many  years, 
and  he  and  his  wives  were  very  kind  to  me.  After  a 
time  I  could  think  of  my  own  people  without  crying, 
and  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  never  see  them 
again.  I  was  no  longer  called  a  slave,  and  made  to  do 
the  work  of  others.  Deaf  Man  would  say  that  I  was 
his  youngest  wife,  and  we  would  joke  about  the  time 
he  captured  me.  I  was  his  wife  and  happy. 

"So  the  winters  went  and  we  grew  old,  and  then  one 
summer  when  we  were  trading  in  Fort  Benton,  whom 
should  I  meet  but  my  good  friend  here,  who  had  come 
up  on  a  fire-boat  (steamer)  to  join  her  son.  That  was 
a  happy  day,  for  we  had  played  together  when  we  were 
children.  She  went  at  once  to  Deaf  Man  and  pleaded 
with  him  to  let  me  live  with  her,  and  he  consented. 
And  here  I  am,  happy  and  contented  in  rny  old  age. 
Deaf  Man  comes  often  to  talk  with  us  and  smoke  his 
pipe.  We  were  glad  of  his  visit  to-day,  and  when  he 
went  home  he  carried  much  tobacco,  and  a  new  blanket 
for  his  old  wife. 

"  There,  I  have  told  you  a  long  story,  my  son,  and  night 


78  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

fell  long,  long  since.  Go  to  bed,  for  you  must  be  up 
early  for  your  hunt  to-morrow.  The  Crow  Woman  will 
awake  you.  Yes,  these  Blackfeet  gave  me  that  name. 
I  hated  it  once,  but  have  got  used  to  it.  We  get  used 
to  anything  in  time." 

" But  wait,"  I  said.  "You  did  not  tell  me  all.  What 
became  of  the  others  of  ycur  party  when  you  were  at- 
tacked by  the  Crows?" 

"I  did  not  mention  that,"  she  replied,  "for  even  to 
this  day  I  do  not  like  to  think  nor  speak  about  it. 
There  were  many,  many  bodies  scattered  along  the  way 
of  flight,  scalped,  naked,  bloody,  and  dreadfully  hacked 
up.  Few  escaped." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A    WHITE    BUFFALO 

ONE  evening  in  the  latter  part  of  January  there 
was  much  excitement  in  the  three  great  camps. 
Some  Piegan  hunters,  just  returned  from  a  few  days' 
buffalo  chase  out  on  the  plains  to  the  north  of  the  river 
had  seen  a  white  buffalo.  The  news  quickly  spread, 
and  from  all  quarters  Indians  came  in  to  the  post 
for  powder  and  balls,  flints,  percussion  caps,  tobacco, 
and  various  other  articles.  There  was  to  be  an  exodus 
of  hunting  parties  from  the  three  villages  in  the  morning 
and  men  were  betting  with  each  other  as  to  which  of 
the  tribes  would  secure  the  skin  of  the  white  animal; 
each  one,  of  course,  betting  on  his  own  tribe.  By  nearly 
all  the  tribes  of  the  plains  an  albino  buffalo  was  con- 
sidered a  sacred  thing,  the  especial  property  of  the  Sun. 
When  one  was  killed  the  hide  was  always  beautifully 
tanned,  and  at  the  next  medicine  lodge  was  given  to  the 
Sun.  with  great  ceremony,  hung  above  all  the  other 
offerings  on  the  centre  post  of  the  structure,  and  there 
left  to  shrivel  gradually  and  fall  to  pieces.  War  parties 
of  other  tribes,  passing  the  deserted  place,  would  not 
touch  it  for  fear  of  calling  down  upon  themselves  the 
wrath  of  the  Sun.  The  man  who  killed  such  an  animal 
was  thought  to  have  received  the  especial  favour  of  the 
Sun,  and  not  only  he,  but  the  whole  tribe  of  which  he 
was  a  member.  A  white  robe  was  one  thing  which 
was  never  offered  for  sale ;  none  who  secured  one  might 
keep  it  any  longer  than  until  the  time  of  the  next  medicine 

79 


8o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

lodge,  the  great  annual  religious  ceremony.  Medi- 
cine men,  however,  were  permitted  to  take  the  strips 
of  trimming,  cut  to  make  even  the  border  of  the  finished 
robe,  and  to  use  them  for  wrapping  their  sacred  pipes, 
or  for  a  bandage  around  the  head,  only  to  be  worn, 
however,  on  great  occasions. 

Of  course  I  began  to  make  inquiries  about  albino 
buffalo.  My  friend  Berry  said  that  in  all  his  life  he  had 
seen  but  four.  One  very  old  Piegan  told  me  that  he  had 
seen  seven,  the  last  one,  a  very  large  cow  robe,  having 
been  purchased  by  his  people  from  the  Mandans  for  one 
hundred  and  twenty  horses,  and,  like  all  the  others, 
given  to  the  Sun.  I  further  learned  from  Berry  that 
these  albinos  were  not  snow  white,  as  is  a  white  black- 
bird or  a  crow,  but  cream  coloured.  Well,  if  possible, 
I  wanted  to  see  the  much  talked  of  animal,  see  it  in  life 
skurry  away  over  the  plains  with  its  dusky  mates,  so 
I  joined  one  of  the  hunting  parties  the  next  morning, 
going,  as  usual,  with  my  friends,  Talks- with- the-buffalo 
and  Weasel  Tail.  We  planned  the  hunt  in  the  lodge 
of  the  latter,  and  as  it  was  thought  that  we  might  be 
some  time  away,  it  was  decided  to  take  one  lodge  and  all 
its  contents,  and  to  allow  no  others  to  crowd  in  upon 
us.  "That  is,"  Weasel  Tail  added,  "that  is,  we'll  do 
this,  and  take  our  wives  along,  too,  if  you  think  they 
will  not  get  to  quarrelling  about  the  right  way  to  boil 
water,  or  as  to  the  proper  place  to  set  an  empty  kettle." 

His  wife  threw  a  moccasin  at  him,  Madame  Talks- 
with- the-buffalo  pouted  and  exclaimed  "K'ya!"  and 
we  all  laughed. 

We  did  not  get  a  very  early  start;  the  days  were  short, 
and  after  covering  about  twenty  miles  made  camp  in 
a  low,  wide  coulee.  There  were  fifteen  lodges  of  our 
party,  all  but  ours  crowded  with  hunters.  We  had 


A  WHITE  BUFFALO  81 

many  visitors  of  an  evening  who  dropped  in  to  smoke 
and  talk  and  feast,  but  at  bedtime  we  had  ample  room 
to  spread  our  robes  and  blankets.  We  started  early 
the  next  morning  and  never  stopped  until  we  arrived 
at  a  willow-bordered  stream  running  out  from  the  west 
butte  of  the  Sweetgrass  Hills  and  eventually  disappear- 
ing in  the  dry  plain.  It  was  an  ideal  camping  place, 
plenty  of  shelter,  plenty  of  wood  and  water.  The  big 
herd  in  which  the  albino  buffalo  had  been  seen  was  met 
with  some  fifteen  or  more  miles  southeast  of  our  camp, 
and  had  run  westward  when  pursued.  Our  party 
thought  that  we  had  selected  the  best  location  possible 
in  order  to  scour  the  country  in  search  of  it.  Those 
who  had  seen  it  reported  that  it  was  a  fair-sized  animal, 
and  so  swift  that  it  had  run  up  to  the  head  of  the  herd 
at  once  and  remained  there — so  far  from  their  horses' best 
speed,  that  they  never  got  to  determine  whether  it  was 
bull  or  cow.  We  were  the  extreme  western  camp  of 
hunters.  Other  parties,  Piegans,  Blackfeet,  and  Bloods 
were  encamped  east  of  us  along  the  hills,  and  southeast 
of  us  out  on  the  plain.  We  had  agreed  to  do  no  running, 
to  frighten  the  buffalo  as  little  as  possible  until  the  albino 
had  been  found,  or  it  became  time  to  return  to  the  river. 
Then,  or  course,  a  big  run  or  two  would  be  made  in 
order  to  load  the  pack  animals  with  meat  and  hides. 
The  weather  was  unfavourable.  To  say  nothing  of  the 
intense  cold,  a  thick  haze  of  glittering  frost  flakes  filled 
the  air,  through  which  the  sun  shone  dimly.  Objects 
half  a  mile  or  less  out  on  the  plain  could  not  be  discerned. 
We  were  almost  at  the  foot  of  the  west  butte,  but  it  and 
its  pine  forest  had  vanished  in  the  shining  frost  fog. 
Nevertheless,  we  rode  out  daily  on  our  quest,  south, 
west,  or  northward  by  one  side  or  the  other  of  the  butte 
toward  the  Little  (Milk)  River.  We  saw  many  buffalo; 


8a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

thousands  of  them,  in  bands  of  from  twenty  or  thirty  to 
four  or  five  hundred,  but  we  did  not  find  the  white  one. 
Other  parties  often  dropped  in  at  our  camp  for  a  bite 
and  a  smoke,  or  were  met  out  on  the  plain,  and  they  had 
the  same  report  to  make :  plenty  of  buffalo,  but  no  albino. 
I  must  repeat  that  the  weather  was  intensely  cold. 
Antelope  stood  humped  up,  heads  down  in  the  coulees; 
on  the  south  slope  of  the  butte,  as  we  rode  by  its  foot, 
we  could  see  deer,  and  elk,  and  even  big-horn  in  the  same 
position.  The  latter  would  get  out  of  our  way,  but  the 
others  hardly  noticed  our  passing.  Only  the  buffalo, 
the  wolves,  coyotes,  and  swifts  were,  as  one  may  say, 
happy;  the  buffalo  grazed  about  as  usual,  the  others 
trotted  around  and  feasted  on  the  quarry  they  had 
hamstrung  and  pulled  down,  and  howled  and  yelped 
throughout  the  long  nights.  No  cold  could  find  its 
way  through  their  thick,  warm  coats. 

I  cannot  remember  how  many  days  that  cold  time 
lasted,  during  which  we  vainly  hunted  for  the  albino 
buffalo.  The  change  came  about  ten  o'clock  one  morning 
as  we  were  riding  slowly  around  the  west  side  of  the  butte. 
We  felt  suddenly  an  intermittent  tremor  of  warm  air 
in  our  faces;  the  frost  haze  vanished  instantly  and  we 
could  see  the  Rockies,  partially  enveloped  in  dense,  dark 
clouds.  "Hah!"  exclaimed  a  medicine-pipe  man. 
"Did  I  not  pray  for  a  black  wind  last  night?  And  see, 
here  it  is;  my  Sun  power  is  strong." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  Chinook  came  on  in  strong, 
warm  gusts  and  settled  into  a  roaring,  snapping  blast. 
The  thin  coat  of  snow  on  the  grass  disappeared.  One 
felt  as  if  summer  had  come. 

We  were  several  hundred  feet  above  the  plain,  on 
the  lower  slope  of  the  butte,  and  in  every  direction,  as 
far  as  we  could  see,  there  were  buffalo,  buffalo,  and  still 


A  WHITE  BUFFALO  83 

more  buffalo.  They  were  a  grand  sight.  Nature  had 
been  good  to  these  Indians  in  providing  for  them  such 
vast  herds  for  their  sustenance.  Had  it  not  been  for  the 
white  man  with  his  liquor,  and  trinkets,  and  his  lust 
for  land,  the  herds  would  be  there  to  this  day;  and  so 
would  the  red  men,  leading  their  simple  and  happy 
life. 

It  seemed  about  as  useless  as  looking  for  the  proverbial 
needle,  to  attempt  to  locate  a  single  white  animal 
among  all  those  dark  ones.  We  all  dismounted,  and, 
adjusting  my  long  telescope,  I  searched  herd  after  herd 
until  my  vision  became  blinded,  and  then  I  passed  the 
instrument  to  some  one  beside  me.  Nearly  all  of  the 
party  tried  it,  but  the  result  was  the  same;  no  white 
buffalo  could  be  found.  It  was  pleasant  sitting  there 
in  the  warm  wind,  with  the  sun  shining  brightly  upon 
us  once  more.  Pipes  were  filled  and  lighted  and  we 
smoked  and  talked  about  the  animal  we  were  after,  of 
course;  each  one  had  his  opinion  as  to  where  it  was  at 
that  moment,  and  they  varied  in  locality  from  the 
Missouri  River  to  the  Saskatchewan,  from  the  Rockies 
to  the  Bear's  Paw  Mountains.  While  we  were  talking 
there  appeared  a  commotion  among  the  buffalo  south- 
east of  us.  I  got  the  telescope  to  bear  upon  the  place 
and  saw  that  a  number  of  Indians  were  chasing  a  herd  of 
a  hundred  or  more  due  westward.  They  were  far  be- 
hind them,  more  than  a  mile,  and  the  buffalo  were 
widening  that  distance  rapidly,  but  still  the  riders 
kept  on,  doggedly,  persistently,  in  a  long,  straggling 
line.  I  passed  the  glass  to  Weasel  Tail  and  told  what 
I  had  seen.  Everyone  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"It  must  be,"  said  my  friend,  "that  they  have  found 
the  white  one,  else  they  would  give  up  the  chase.  They 
are  far  behind  and  their  horses  are  tired;  they  'lope 


84  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

very  weakly.  Yes,  it  is  the  white  one  they  follow.  I 
see  it!  I  see  it!" 

We  were  mounted  in  a  moment  and  riding  out  to 
intercept  the  herd;  riding  at  a  trot,  occasionally  broken 
by  a  short  'lope,  for  the  horses  must  be  kept  fresh  for 
the  final  run.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  we  arrived  at 
a  low,  long,  mound-like  elevation,  near  which  it  seemed 
the  herd  must  pass.  We  could  see  them  coming  straight 
toward  it.  So  we  got  behind  it  and  waited,  my  com- 
panions, as  usual,  removing  their  saddles  and  piling 
them  in  a  heap.  It  was  realised,  of  course,  that  the 
buffalo  might  get  wind  of  us  and  turn  long  before  they 
were  near  enough  for  us  to  make  a  dash  at  them,  but  we 
had  to  take  that  chance.  After  what  seemed  to  me 
a  very  long  time,  our  leader,  peering  over  the  top  of 
the  mound,  told  us  to  be  ready ;  we  all  mounted.  Then 
he  called  out  for  us  to  come  on,  and  we  dashed  over  the 
rise ;  the  herd  was  yet  over  500  yards  distant,  had  winded 
us,  and  turned  south.  How  the  whips  were  plied; 
short-handled  quirts  of  rawhide  which  stung  and  mad- 
dened the  horses.  At  first  we  gained  rapidly  on  the  herd, 
then  for  a  time  kept  at  about  their  speed,  and  finally 
began  to  lose  distance.  Still  we  kept  on,  for  we  could 
all  see  the  coveted  prize,  the  albino,  running  at  the 
head  of  the  herd.  I  felt  sure  that  none  of  us  were  able 
overtake  it,  but  because  the  others  did,  I  kept  my  horse 
going,  too,  shamefully  quirting  him  when  he  was  doing 
his  very  best. 

It  is  a  trite  but  true  saying  that  "  it  is  the  unexpected 
that  always  happens."  Out  from  a  coulee  right  in 
front  of  the  flying  herd  dashed  a  lone  horseman,  right 
in  among  them,  scattering  the  animals  in  all  directions. 
In  much  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  he  rode  up 
right  beside  the  albino,  we  could  see  him  lean  over  and 


A  WHITE  BUFFALO  85 

sink  arrow  after  arrow  into  its  ribs,  and  presently  it 
stopped,  wobbled,  and  fell  over  on  its  side.  When  we 
rode  up  to  the  place  the  hunter  was  standing  over  it, 
hands  raised,  fervently  praying,  promising  the  Sun  the 
robe  and  the  tongue  of  the  animal.  It  was  a  three- 
year-old  cow,  yellowish-white  in  colour,  but  with  normal 
coloured  eyes.  I  had  believed  that  the  eyes  of  all 
albinos  were  of  pinkish  hue.  The  successful  hunter 
was  a  Piegan,  Medicine  Weasel  by  name.  He  was  so 
excited,  he  trembled  so,  that  he  could  not  use  his  knife, 
and  some  of  our  party  took  off  the  hide  for  him,  and  cut 
out  the  tongue,  he  standing  over  them  all  the  time  and 
begging  them  to  be  careful,  to  make  no  gashes,  for  they 
were  doing  the  work  for  the  Sun.  None  of  the  meat 
was  taken.  It  was  considered  a  sacrilege  to  eat  it;  the 
tongue  was  to  be  dried  and  given  to  the  Sun  with  the 
robe.  While  the  animal  was  being  skinned,  the  party 
we  had  seen  chasing  the  herd  came  up ;  they  were  Black- 
feet  of  the  north,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  very  well 
pleased  that  the  Piegans  had  captured  the  prize;  they 
soon  rode  away  to  their  camp,  and  we  went  to  ours, 
accompanied  by  Medicine  Weasel,  who  had  left  his 
camp  to  the  eastward  in  the  morning  to  hunt  up 
some  stray  horses,  and  had  wound  up  the  day  in 
a  most  unexpected  manner.  So  ended  that  particular 
hunt. 

Before  the  buffalo  finally  disappeared  I  saw  one  more 
— not  a  pure  albino.  In  fact,  Berry  and  I  purchased 
the  tanned  robe,  which,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  we 
named  the  "spotted  robe."  Singularly  enough,  this 
animal  was  killed  in  1881,  when  the  last  of  the  great 
herds  were  in  the  country  lying  between  the  Yellow- 
stone and  Missouri  rivers,  and  where  in  two  more  years 
they  were  practically  exterminated.  This  animal  was 


86  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

also  a  cow,  a  large  five-year-old.  The  hair  on  its 
head,  belly,  legs,  and  tail  was  snow  white,  and  there 
was  a  white  spot  on  each  flank  about  eight  inches  in 
diameter.  When  the  hide  was  taken  off,  by  ripping  it 
in  the  usual  mnnner,  there  was  an  eight  or  ten-inch 
border  all  around  it  of  pure  white,  contrasting  vividly 
with  the  beautiful,  glossy,  dark  brown  of  the  body  of 
the  robe.  The  animal  was  killed  by  a  young  North 
Blackfoot  between  Big  Crooked  Creek  and  Flat  Willow 
Creek,  both  emptying  into  the  lower  Musselshell.  We 
had  at  the  time  a  large  post  on  the  Missouri,  a  couple  of 
hundred  miles  below  Fort  Benton,  and  a  branch  post 
over  on  Flat  Willow.  Berry  was  on  his  way  to  visit 
the  latter  place  when  he  came  upon  a  party  of  Black- 
feet  just  as  they  had  concluded  a  run,  and  saw  the  spotted 
animal  before  it  was  skinned.  He  went  no  farther  that 
day,  but  accompanied  the  young  hunter  to  his  father's 
lodge  where  the  old  man  made  him  welcome.  If  there 
was  ever  a  man  on  earth  who  could  coax  an  Indian  to  do 
whatever  he  wished  that  man  was  Berry.  He  pleaded 
hard  for  that  hide  all  the  afternoon  and  far  into  the 
night.  It  was  against  all  precedent  and  tradition  to 
barter  such  a  skin,  belonging  as  it  did  to  the  Sun.  It 
would  be  a  sacrilege  to  sell  it.  The  young  hunter  got 
out  of  the  deal  by  giving  it  to  his  father,  and, 
finally,  as  the  old  man  knocked  the  ashes  out  of 
the  last  pipe  before  retiring,  he  sighed,  and  said 
wearily  to  Berry:  "Well,  my  son,  you  shall  have  your 
way ;  my  wife  will  tan  the  robe,  and  some  day  I  will  give 
it  to  you." 

It  was  a  beautifully  tanned  robe,  and  on  the  clean, 
white  leather  side  the  old  man  painted  the  record  of  his 
life ;  the  enemies  he  had  killed,  the  horses  he  had  taken, 
the  combats  he  had  waged  against  the  grizzly  tribe,  and 


A  WHITE  BUFFALO  87 

the  animals  and  stars  of  his  medicine.  There  were 
other  traders  in  the  same  bottom  with  us  on  the  Mis- 
souri. One  day,  with  his  ancient  wife,  the  old  man 
rode  in  and  duly  exhibited  to  them  all  the  wonderful 
robe,  and,  of  course,  they  all  wanted  it.  "I  am  not 
ready  to  sell  it,"  the  crafty  old  man  said  to  each  one. 
"After  a  while — well,  we'll  see;  we'll  see." 

Then  the  traders  vied  with  each  other  in  being  good 
to  the  old  man.  During  the  balance  of  the  winter  they 
kept  him  supplied  with  all  the  whisky,  and  tobacco, 
and  tea,  and  sugar  and  various  other  things  that  he  could 
use.  Two  or  three  times  a  week  he  and  the  old  wife 
would  come  down  to  our  place  loaded  with  bottles  of 
whisky  and  sit  before  the  fireplace  in  our  living  room 
and  get  comfortably  full.  I  loved  to  watch  and  listen 
to  them,  they  were  so  happy,  so  loving,  so  given  to 
recalling  the  pleasant  days  of  their  youth  and  vigour. 
And  so  it  went  on  for  several  months,  and  finally  one 
spring  day,  when  by  chance  our  rivals  happened  to  be 
lounging  in  our  trade  room,  the  old  couple  sauntered 
in  and  tossed  the  robe  over  the  counter,  the  old  man 
saying  to  Berry:  "There  it  is,  my  son.  I  fulfil  my 
promise.  But  put  it  away  clear  out  of  sight,  lest  I  be 
tempted  to  take  it  back." 

Maybe  we  didn't  enjoy  the  chagrin  of  our  rivals! 
Each  one  of  them  had  been  so  sure  that  he  was  going 
to  get  the  odd  robe.  But  then  they  were  "pilgrims"; 
they  didn't  "savvy"  the  Indians.  We  got  our  4,000 
robes  that  winter,  more  than  all  the  rest  of  them  to- 
gether. We  finally  sold  the  robe.  The  fame  of  it 
spread  up  and  down  the  river,  and  finally  a  Montreal, 
Canada,  gentleman,  making  a  tour  of  the  country, 
heard  of  it ;  and  when  the  steamboat  he  was  on  stopped 
at  our  place  he  came  in  and  bought  it  before  we  knew 


88  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

where  we  were  at.  We  did  not  wish  to  sell  it,  and 
named  a  price  that  we  deemed  prohibitive.  To  oui 
amazement  he  laid  down  two  large  bills,  threw  the  robe 
over  his  shoulder,  and  hurried  back  to  the  boat.  Berry 
and  I  looked  at  each  other  and  said  things. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A    WINTER    ON    THE    MARIAS 

'T^HERE  was  a  little  town  in  northern  Montana, 
A  where  upon  certain  days  things  would  run  along 
as  smoothly  and  monotonously  as  in  a  village  of  this 
effete  East.  But  at  certain  other  times  you  would 
enter  the  place  to  find  everyone  on  a  high  old  tear.  It 
seemed  to  be  epidemic;  if  one  man  started  to  get  glo- 
riously full  everyone  promptly  joined  in — doctor,  lawyer, 
merchant,  cattleman,  sheepman  and  all.  Well  do  I 
remember  the  last  affair  of  that  kind  I  witnessed  there. 
By  about  2  p.  M.  they  got  to  the  champagne  stage — 
'twas  really  sparkling  cider  or  something  of  that  kind — 
five  dollars  a  bottle,  and  about  fifty  men  were  going  from 
saloon  to  store  and  from  store  to  hotel  treating  in  turn — 
sixty  dollars  a  round.  I  mention  this  as  a  prelude  to  what 
I  have  to  say  about  drinking  among  the  Indians  in  the  old 
days.  They  were  no  worse  than  the  whites  in  that  way, 
and  with  them  it  seemed  to  be  also  epidemic. 

Quietly  and  orderly  a  camp  would  be  for  days  and 
days,  and  then  suddenly  all  the  men  would  start  in  on 
a  drinking  bout.  Really,  I  believe  that  the  Indians  at 
such  times,  free  as  they  were  from  any  restraint,  to 
whom  law  was  an  unknown  term,  were  better  behaved 
than  would  be  a  like  number  of  our  working-men  in  the 
same  condition.  True,  they  frequently  quarrelled  with 
each  other  when  in  liquor,  and  a  quarrel  was  something 
to  be  settled  only  by  blood.  But  let  a  thousand  white 
men  get  drunk  together,  would  there  not  ensue  some 

89 


9o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

fearful  scenes?  One  reads  of  the  ferocity  of  Indians 
when  drinking,  but  my  own  experience  was  that  on  the 
whole  they  were  exceedingly  good-natured  and  jovial 
at  such  times,  and  often  infinitely  amusing.  One  night 
that  winter  on  the  Marias  I  was  wending  my  way  home- 
ward from  a  visit  at  Sorrel  Horse's  place,  when  a  man 
and  woman  came  out  of  the  trade  room  and  staggered 
along  the  trail  toward  me.  I  slipped  behind  a  cotton- 
wood  tree.  The  man  was  very  unsteady  on  his  feet 
and  the  woman,  trying  to  help  him  along,  at  the  same 
time  was  giving  him  a  thorough  scolding.  I  heard 

her  say:  " ,  and  you  didn't  look  out  for  me  a  bit; 

there  you  were  in  that  crowd,  just  drinking  with  one  and 
then  another,  and  never  looking  to  see  how  I  was  get- 
ting along.  You  don't  protect  me  at  all;  you  don't 
care  for  me,  or  you  would  not  have  let  me  stay  in  there 
to  be  insulted." 

The  man  stopped  short  and,  swaying  this  way  and 
that,  gave  a  roar  like  a  wounded  grizzly:  "Don't  care 
for  you;  don't  protect  you;  let  you  get  insulted,"  he 
spluttered  and  foamed.  "Who  insulted  you?  Who? 
I  say.  Let  me  at  him!  Let  me  at  him!  I'll  fix  him 
with  this." 

Right  there  by  the  trail  was  lying  a  large,  green, 
cottonwood  log  which  would  have  weighed  at  least  a 
ton.  He  bent  over  it  and  tried  again  and  again  to  lift 
it,  shouting:  "Protect  you!  Insulted!  Who  did  it? 
Where  is  he?  Wait  until  I  pick  up  this  club  and  let 
me  at  him." 

But  the  club  wouldn't  be  picked  up,  and  he  became 
perfectly  frantic  in  his  efforts  to  lift  it  up  and  place  it 
on  his  shoulder.  He  danced  from  one  end  to  the  other 
of  it  with  increasing  ardour  and  anger,  until  he  finally 
fell  over  it  exhausted,  and  then  the  patient  woman 


A  WINTER  ON  THE  MARIAS  91 

picked  him  up — he  was  a  little,  light  fellow — and  carried 
him  home. 

I  knew  a  young  man  who  always  became  very  mis- 
chievous when  he  drank.  He  had  three  wives  and  at 
such  times  he  would  steal  their  little  stores  of  fine  pem- 
mican,  fancy  bead-work,  their  needles  and  awls,  and 
give  them  to  other  women.  He  was  up  to  his  pranks 
one  morning  as  I  happened  along,  and  the  women  deter- 
mined to  catch  and  bind  him  until  he  became  sober. 
But  he  would  not  be  caught;  they  chased  him  through 
the  camp,  out  toward  the  hills,  by  the  river,  back  to 
camp,  when,  by  means  of  a  travois  leaning  against  it, 
he  climbed  to  the  top  of  his  lodge,  seated  himself  in  the 
V-shaped  crotch  of  the  lodge  poles,  and  jibed  the 
women  for  their  poor  running  qualities,  enumerated 
the  articles  he  had  stolen  from  them,  and  so  on.  He 
•was  exceedingly  hilarious.  The  wives  held  a  whispered 
consultation,  and  one  of  them  went  inside.  Their 
tormentor  ceased  jibing  and  began  a  drinking  song: 

"Bear  Chief,  he  gave  me  a  drink, 
Bear  Chief,  he  gave  me  a " 

That  was  as  far  as  he  got.  The  wife  had  thrown  a 
huge  armful  of  rye  grass  from  her  couch  upon  the 
smouldering  fire,  it  blazed  up  with  a  sudden  roar  and 
burst  of  flame  which  reached  the  tenderest  part  of  his 
anatomy ;  he  gave  a  loud  yell  of  surprise  and  pain  and 
leaped  from  his  perch.  When  he  struck  the  ground  the 
women  were  upon  him  and  I  know  not  how  many  lariats 
they  coiled  about  him  before  they  bore  him  inside, 
amid  the  jeers  and  jests  of  a  throng  of  laughing  spectators, 
and  laid  him  upon  his  couch. 

But  there  was  another  side,  and  by  no  means  a  pleas- 
ant one  to  this  drinking  business.  One  night,  when 


92  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

there  were  few  Indians  about,  Berry,  one  of  his  traders 
named  T.  and  I  were  lingering  by  the  fireplace  in  the 
trade  room.  There  had  been  a  crowd  there  earlier  in 
the  evening,  and  two  remained,  both  sleeping  off  the 
effects  of  their  carouse  in  a  corner  opposite  us.  Sud- 
denly Berry  shouted:  "  Look  out,  T. ! "  at 'the  same  time 
giving  him  a  fierce  shove  against  me  which  sent  us  both 
to  the  floor.  And  he  was  none  too  soon,  for  even  as  it 
was,  an  arrow  grazed  the  skin  of  T.'s  right  side.  One 
of  the  drunken  Indians  had  awakened,  deliberately 
fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bow,  and  was  just  about  to  let 
fly  at  T.,  when  Berry  saw  him.  Before  he  could  draw 
another  arrow  from  his  quiver  we  pounced  on  him  and 
threw  him  outside.  Why  he  did  it,  if  for  some  fancied 
wrong,  or  if  he  was  still  dreaming,  we  never  knew.  He 
was  a  Blood,  and  they  were  a  very  treacherous  tribe. 

Another  evening  Berry  unbarred  the  door  to  go  out 
when  it  suddenly  flew  open  and  a  tall  Indian,  frozen 
stiff,  with  an  arrow  sticking  in  his  bosom,  fell  inside. 
Some  one  with  grim  humour  had  leaned  the  frozen 
body  against  the  door  with  a  view  of  giving  us  a  surprise. 
The  dead  man  was  also  a  Blood,  and  it  was  never  known 
who  killed  him. 

Out  on  a  hunt  one  day  down  on  the  Missouri,  I  killed 
a  buffalo  which  had  what  the  traders  called  a  "beaver 
robe,"  because  the  hair  was  so  exceedingly  fine,  thick, 
and  of  a  glossy,  silky  nature.  Beaver  robes  were  rare, 
and  I  had  skinned  this  with  horns  and  hoofs  intact.  I 
wished  to  have  it  especially  well  tanned,  as  I  intended 
it  for  a  present  to  an  Eastern  friend.  The  Crow  Woman, 
good  old  soul,  declared  that  she  would  do  the  work  her- 
self, and  promptly  stretched  the  hide  on  a  frame.  The 
next  morning  it  was  frozen  stiff  as  a  board,  and  she  was 
standing  on  it  busily  chipping  it,  when  a  half-drunk 


A  WINTER  ON  THE  MARIAS  93 

Cree  came  along.  I  happened  in  sight  just  as  he  was 
about  to  pull  her  off  of  the  hide,  and  hurrying  over 
there  I  struck  him  with  all  my  power  square  in  the  fore- 
head with  my  fist.  The  blow  did  not  stagger  him.  It 
has  often  been  said  that  it  is  nearly  impossible  to  knock 
an  Indian  down,  and  I  believe  it.  Well,  the  Cree  picked 
up  a  broken  lodge  pole,  the  longest  and  heaviest  end 
of  it,  and  came  for  me,  and  as  I  was  unarmed  I  had  to 
turn  and  ignominiously  run;  I  was  not  so  swift  as  my 
pursuer,  either.  It  is  hard  to  say  what  would  have 
happened — probably  I  would  have  been  killed  had 
Berry  not  seen  the  performance  and  hurried  to  my  as- 
sistance. The  Cree  was  just  on  the  point  of  giving  me  a 
blow  on  the  head  when  Berry  fired,  and  the  Indian  fell 
with  a  bullet  through  his  shoulder.  Some  of  his  people 
came  along  and  packed  him  home.  Then  the  Cree 
chief  and  his  council  came  over  and  we  had  a  fine  pow- 
wow about  the  matter.  It  ended  by  our  paying  dam- 
ages. We  did  our  best  always  to  get  along  with  as 
little  friction  as  possible,  but  I  did  hate  to  pay  that 
Cree  for  a  wound  he  richly  deserved. 

We  traded  several  seasons  with  the  Crees  and  North 
Blackfeet  down  on  the  Missouri,  they  having  followed 
the  last  of  the  Saskatchewan  buffalo  herds  south  into 
Montana.  There  was  a  certain  young  Blackfoot  with 
whom  I  was  especially  friendly,  but  one  day  he  came 
in  very  drunk  and  I  refused  to  give  him  any  liquor.  He 
became  very  angry  and  walked  out  making  dire  threats. 
I  had  forgotten  all  about  the  '.incident  when  several 
hours  later  his  wife  came  running  in  and  said  that  Took- 
a-gun-under-the-water  (It-su'-yi-na-mak-an)  was  com- 
ing to  kill  me.  The  woman  was  terribly  frightened 
and  begged  me  to  pity  her  and  not  kill  her  husband, 
whom  she  dearly  loved  and  who,  when  sober,  would  be 


94  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

terribly  ashamed  of  himself  for  attempting  to  hurt  me. 
I  went  to  the  door  and  sav>  my  quondam  friend  com- 
ing, He  had  on  no  wearing  apparel  whatever  except 
his  moccasins,  and  had  painted  his  face,  body,  and  limbs 
with  fantastic  stripes  of  green,  yellow,  and  red;  he  was 
brandishing  a  .44  Winchester  and  calling  upon  the  Sun 
to  witness  how  he  would  kill  me,  his  worst  enemy.  Of 
course  I  didn't  want  to  kill  him  any  more  than  his  wife 
wished  to  see  him  killed.  Terror-stricken,  she  ran  and 
hid  in  a  pile  of  robes,  and  I  took  my  stand  behind  the 
open  door  with  a  Winchester.  On  came  he  of  the  long 
name,  singing,  shouting  the  war  song,  and  saying  re- 
peatedly, "Where  is  that  bad  white  man?  Show  him 
to  me  that  I  may  give  him  one  bullet,  just  this  one 
little  bullet?" 

With  carbine  full  cocked  he  strode  in,  looking  eagerly 
ahead  for  a  sight  of  me,  and  just  as  he  passed  I  gave  him 
a  smart  blow  on  top  of  the  head  with  the  barrel  of  my 
rifle;  down  he  dropped  senseless  to  the  floor,  his  car- 
bine going  off  and  sending  the  missile  intended  for  me 
through  a  case  of  tinned  tomatoes  on  a  shelf.  The 
woman  ran  out  from  her  hiding  place  at  the  sound  of  the 
shot,  thinking  that  I  had  surely  killed  him;  but  her  joy 
was  great  when  she  learned  her  mistake.  Together  we 
bound  him  tightly  and  got  him  home  to  his  lodge. 

Now,  one  often  reads  that  an  Indian  never  forgives  a 
blow  nor  an  injury  of  any  kind,  no  matter  how  much  at 
fault  he  may  have  been.  That  is  all  wrong.  The  next 
morning  Took-a- gun-under- the-water  sent  me  a  fine 
buffalo  robe.  At  dusk  he  came  in  and  begged  me  to 
forgive  him.  Ever  after  we  were  the  best  of  friends. 
Whenever  I  had  time  for  a  short  hunt  back  in  the  breaks, 
or  out  on  the  plains,  I  chose  him  for  my  companion, 
and  a  more  faithful  and  considerate  one  I  never  had. 


A  WINTER  ON  THE  MARIAS  95 

I  cannot  say  that  all  traders  got  along  so  well  with 
the  Indians  as  did  Berry  and  I.  There  were  some  bad 
men  among  them,  men  who  delighted  in  inflicting  pain, 
in  seeing  blood  flow.  I  have  known  such  to  kill  Indians 
just  for  fun,  but  never  in  a  fair,  open  fight.  They  were 
great  cowards,  and  utterly  unprincipled.  These  men 
sold  "whisky"  which  contained  tobacco  juice,  cayenne 
pepper,  and  various  other  vile  things.  Berry  and  I  sold 
weak  liquor,  it  is  true,  but  the  weakness  consisted  of 
nothing  but  pure  water — which  was  all  the  better  for 
the  consumer.  I  make  no  excuse  for  the  whisky  trade. 
It  was  wrong,  all  wrong,  and  none  realised  it  better  than 
we  when  we  were  dispensing  the  stuff.  It  caused  un- 
told suffering,  many  deaths,  great  demoralisation  among 
those  people  of  the  plains.  There  was  but  one  redeem- 
ing feature  about  it:  The  trade  was  at  a  time  when 
it  did  not  deprive  them  of  the  necessities  of  life;  there 
was  always  more  meat,  more  fur  to  be  had  for  the  kil- 
ling of  it.  In  comparison  with  various  Government 
officials  and  rings,  who  robbed  and  starved  the  Indians 
to  death  on  their  reservations  after  the  buffalo  dis- 
appeared, we  were  saints. 

All  in  all,  that  was  a  pleasant  winter  we  passed  on 
the  Marias.  Hunting  with  the  Indians,  lounging  around 
a  lodge  fire,  or  before  our  own  or  Sorrel  Horse's  fire- 
place of  an  evening,  the  days  fairly  flew.  Sometimes 
I  would  go  with  Sorrel  Horse  to  visit  his  "baits,"  and 
it  was  a  great  sight  to  see  the  huge  wolves  lying  stiff 
and  stark  about,  and  even  on  them.  To  make  a  good 
bait  a  buffalo  was  killed  and  cut  open  on  the  back,  and 
into  the  meat,  blood,  and  entrails  three  vials  of  strychnine 
— three-eighths  of  an  ounce — were  stirred.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  merest  bite  of  this  deadly  mixture  was  enough 
to  kill,  a  victim  seldom  getting  more  than  200  yards 


96  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

away  before  the  terrible  convulsions  seized  him.  Of 
course,  great  numbers  of  coyotes  and  kit  foxes  were  also 
posioned,  but  they  didn't  count.  The  large,  heavy- 
furred  wolf  skins  were  in  great  demand  in  the  East  for 
sleigh  and  carriage  robes,  and  sold  right  at  Fort  Benton 
for  from  three  dollars  to  five  dollars  each.  I  had  a 
fancy  to  take  some  of  these  stiffly -frozen  animals  home, 
and  stand  them  up  around  Sorrel  Horse's  house.  They 
were  an  odd  and  interesting  sight,  standing  there, 
heads  and  tails  up,  as  if  guarding  the  place;  but  one 
day  there  came  a  chinook  wind  and  they  soon  toppled 
over  and  were  skinned. 

So  the  days  went,  and  then  came  spring.  The  river 
cleared  itself  of  ice  in  one  grand,  grinding  rush  of  mas- 
sive cakes;  green  grass  darkened  the  valley  slopes; 
geese  and  ducks  honked  and  quacked  in  every  slough. 
We  all,  Indians  and  whites,  wished  to  do  nothing  but 
lie  out  on  the  ground  in  the  warm  sunshine,  and  smoke 
and  dream  in  quiet  contentment. 


CHAPTER  IX 

I    HAVE    A    LODGE    OF    MY    OWN 

WHY  don't  you  get  a  woman?"     Weasel  Tail  ab- 
ruptly   asked  one    evening  as  Talks-with-the- 
buffalo  and  I  sat  smoking  with  him  in  his  lodge. 

"Yes,"  my  other  friend  put  in.  "Why  not?  You 
have  the  right  to  do  so,  for  you  can  count  a  coup;  yes, 
two  of  them.  You  killed  a  Cree,  and  you  took  a  Cree 
horse  in  the  fight  at  the  Hairy  Cap." 

"I  took  a  horse,"  I  replied,  "and  a  good  one  he  is; 
but  you  are  mistaken  about  the  Cree ;  you  will  remem- 
ber that  he  escaped  by  running  into  the  pines  on  Hairy 
Cap." 

"Oh!"  said  Talks-with-the-buffalo,  "I  don't  mean 
that  one;  we  all  know  he  got  away,  I  mean  one  of  those 
who  first  fell  when  we  all  fired  into  them.  That  tall 
one,  the  man  who  wore  a  badger-skin  cap;  you  killed 
him.  I  saw  the  bullet  wound  in  his  body ;  no  ball  from 
any  of  our  rifles  could  have  made  such  a  small  hole." 

This  was  news  to  me ;  I  remembered  well  having  shot 
several  times  at  that  particular  warrior,  but  I  never  had 
thought  that  'twas  my  bullet  that  ended  his  career.  I 
did  not  know  whether  to  feel  glad  or  sorry  about  it,  but 
finally  concluded  that  it  was  best  to  feel  glad,  for  he 
would  have  killed  me  if  he  could  have  done  so.  I  was 
turning  the  matter  over  in  my  mind,  recalling  every 
little  incident  of  that  memorable  day,  when  my  host 
aroused  me  from  my  reverie:  "I  said,  Why  don't  you 
take  a  woman?  Answer." 

97 


98  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Oh!"  I  replied.  "No  one  would  have  me.  Isn't 
that  a  good  reason?" 

"Kyai-yo'I"  exclaimed  Madame  Weasel  Tail,  clap- 
ping her  hand  to  her  mouth,  the  Blackfoot  way  of  ex- 
pressing surprise  or  wonder.  "Kyai-yo'!  What  a 
reason!  I  well  know  that  there  isn't  a  girl  in  this  camp 
but  would  like  to  be  his  woman.  Why,  if  it  wasn't  for 
this  lazy  one  here" — giving  Weasel  Tail's  hand  an 
affectionate  squeeze — "if  he  would  only  go  away  some- 
where and  never  come  back,  I'd  make  you  take  me. 
I'd  follow  you  around  until  you  would  have  to  do  so." 

"  Mah'-kah-kan-is-tsi ! "  I  exclaimed,  which  is  a  flip- 
pant and  slangy  term,  expressing  doubt  of  the  speaker's 
truthfulness. 

" Mah'-kah-kan-is-tsi  yourself ,"  she  rejoined.  "Why 
do  you  think  you  are  asked  to  all  these  Assiniboin 
dances,  where  all  the  young  women  wear  their  best 
clothes,  and  try  to  catch  you  with  their  robes?  Why 
do  you  think  they  put  on  their  best  things  and  go  to  the 
trading  post  with  their  mothers  or  other  relatives  every 
chance  they  get?  What,  you  don't  know?  Well, 
I'll  tell  you:  they  go,  each  one,  hoping  that  you  will 
notice  her,  and  send  a  friend  to  her  parents  to  make  a 
proposal." 

"It  is  the  truth,"  said  Weasel  Tail. 

"Yes,  the  truth,"  Talks-with-the-buffalo  and  his 
woman  joined  in. 

Well,  I  laughed,  a  little  affectedly,  perhaps,  and  turned 
the  conversation  by  asking  about  the  destination  of  a 
war  party  which  was  to  start  out  in  the  morning.  Never- 
theless, I  thought  over  the  matter  a  good  deal.  All 
the  long  winter  I  had  rather  envied  my  good  friends 
Berry  and  Sorrel  Horse,  who  seemed  to  be  so  happy 
with  their  women,  Never  a  cross  word,  always  the  best 


A  plainsman  always  said  'my  woman'  when  speaking  of 
his  Indian  better-half" 


I  HAVE  A  LODGE  OF  MY  OWN  99 

of  good  fellowship  and  open  affection  for  each  other. 
Seeing  all  this,  I  had  several  times  said  to  myself:  "  It  is 
not  good  that  the  man  should  be  alone."  That  quota- 
tion is  from  the  Bible,  is  it  not,  or  is  it  from  Shakespeare? 
Anyhow,  it  is  true.  The  Blackfeet  have  much  the  same 
expression:  "Mat'-ah-kwi  tam-ap-i-ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin — 
not  found  (is)  happiness  without  woman." 

After  that  evening  I  looked  more  closely  at  the  va- 
rious young  women  I  met  in  the  camp  or  at  the  trading 
post,  saying  to  myself:  "  Now,  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a 
woman  that  would  make?  Is  she  neat,  good-tempered, 
moral?"  All  the  time,  however,  I  knew  that  I  had  no 
right  to  take  one  of  them.  I  did  not  intend  to  remain 
long  in  the  West ;  my  people  would  never  forgive  me  for 
making  an  alliance  with  one.  They  were  of  old,  proud 
Puritan  stock,  and  I  could  imagine  them  holding  up 
their  hands  in  horror  at  the  mere  hint  of  such  a  thing. 

You  will  notice  that  thus  far  in  this  part  of  my  story 
I  have  substituted  the  word  woman  for  wife.  A 
plainsman  always  said  "my  woman"  when  speaking  of 
his  Indian  better  half;  the  Blackfoot  said  the  same: 
"  Nit-o-ke-man,"  my  woman.  None  of  the  plainsmen 
were  legally  married,  unless  the  Indian  manner  in  which 
they  took  a  woman,  by  giving  so  many  horses,  or  sc 
much  merchandise  for  one,  could  be  considered  legal. 
In  the  first  place  there  was  no  one  in  the  country  to 
perform  the  marriage  service  except  occasionally  a 
wandering  Jesuit  priest,  and  again,  these  men,  almost 
without  exception,  didn't  care  a  snap  what  the  law  said 
in  regard  to  the  matter.  There  was  no  law.  Neither 
did  they  believe  in  religion;  the  commands  of  the 
church  were  nothing  to  them.  They  took  unto  them- 
selves Indian  women;  if  the  woman  proved  good  and 
true,  well  and  good;  if  otherwise,  there  was  a  separation. 


ioo  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

In  it  all  there  was  never  a  thought  of  future  complications 
and  responsibilities;  their  creed  was:  "Eat,  drink, 
and  be  merry,  for  to-day  we  live  and  to-morow  we  die." 

"No,"  I  said  to  myself  time  and  again;  "no,  it  will 
not  do;  hunt,  go  to  war,  do  anything  but  take  a  woman, 
and  in  the  fall  go  home  to  your  people."  This  is  the 
line  of  conduct  I  laid  out  for  myself  and  meant  to  follow. 
But 

One  morning  the  Crow  Woman  and  I  were  sitting 
out  under  a  shade  she  had  constructed  of  a  couple  of 
travois  and  a  robe  or  two.  She  was  busy  as  usual, 
embroidering  a  moccasin  with  coloured  quills,  and  I 
was  thoroughly  cleaning  my  rifle,  preparatory  to  an 
antelope  hunt.  A  couple  of  women  came  by  on  their 
way  to  the  trade  room  with  three  or  four  robes.  One 
of  them  was  a  girl  of  perhaps  sixteen  or  seventeen  years, 
not  what  one  might  call  beautiful,  still  she  was  good- 
looking,  fairly  tall,  and  well-formed,  and  she  had  fine 
large,  candid,  expressive  eyes,  perfect  white,  even  teeth 
and  heavy  braided  hair  which  hung  almost  to  the 
ground.  All  in  all,  there  was  something  very  attractive 
about  her.  "  Who  is  that? "  I  asked  the  Crow  Woman. 
"That  girl,  I  mean." 

"Don't  you  know?  She  comes  here  often;  she  is  a 
cousin  of  Berry's  woman." 

I  went  away  on  my  hunt,  but  it  didn't  prove  to  be  very 
interesting.  I  was  thinking  all  the  time  about  the  cousin. 
That  evening  I  spoke  to  Berry  about  her,  learned  that 
her  father  was  dead;  that  her  mother  was  a  medicine 
lodge  woman,  and  noted  for  her  unswerving  uprightness 
and  goodness  of  character.  "I'd  like  to  have  the  girl," 
I  said.  "What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"We'll  see,"  Berry  replied.  "I'll  talk  with  my  old 
woman." 


I  HAVE  A  LODGE  OF  MY  OWN  101 

A  couple  of  days  went  by  and  nothing  was  said  by 
either  of  us  about  the  matter,  and  then  one  afternoon 
Mrs.  Berry  told  me  that  I  was  to  have  the  girl,  providing 
I  would  promise  to  be  always  good  and  kind  to  her.  I 
readily  agreed  to  that. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Berry;  "go  into  thf 
trade  room  and  select  a  shawl,  some  dress  goods,  some 
bleached  muslin — no,  I'll  select  the  outfit  and  make 
her  some  white  women's  dresses  like  mine." 

"But,  hold  on!"  I  exclaimed.  "What  am  I  to  pay? 
How  many  horses,  or  whatever  is  wanted?" 

"Her  mother  says  there  is  to  be  no  pay,  only  that 
you  are  to  keep  your  promise  to  be  good  to  her  daughter." 

This  was  quite  unusual,  to  request  that  nothing  be 
given  over  for  a  daughter.  Usually  a  lot  of  horses 
were  sent  to  the  parents,  sometimes  fifty  or  more.  Some- 
times the  father  demanded  so  many  head,  but  if  no  num- 
ber was  specified,  the  suitor  gave  as  many  as  he  could. 
Again,  it  was  not  unusual  for  a  father  to  request  some 
promising  youth,  good  hunter  and  bold  raider,  to  be- 
come his  son-in-law.  In  that  case  he  was  the  one  to 
give  horses,  and  even  a  lodge  and  household  goods,  with 
the  girl. 

Well,  I  got  the  girl.  It  was  an  embarrassing  time 
for  us  both  when  she  came  in  one  evening,  shawl  over 
her  face,  while  we  were  eating  supper.  Sorrel  Horse 
and  his  woman  were  there,  and  with  Berry  and  his 
madame  they  made  things  interesting  for  us  with  their 
jokes,  until  Berry's  mother  put  a  stop  to  it.  We  were 
a  pretty  shy  couple  for  a  long  time,  she  especially. 
"Yes"  and  "no"  were  about  all  that  I  could  get  her  to 
say.  But  my  room  underwent  a  wonderful  transfor- 
mation; everything  was  kept  so  neat  and  clean,  my 
clothes  were  so  nicely  washed,  and  my  "medicine"  was 


lea  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN  • 

carefully  taken  out  every  day  and  hung  on  a  tripod.  I 
had  purchased  a  war  bonnet,  shield,  and  various  other 
things  which  the  Blackfeet  regard  as  sacred,  and  I  did 
not  say  to  any  one  that  I  thought  they  were  not  so.  I 
had  them  handled  with  due  pomp  and  ceremony. 

As  time  passed  this  young  woman  became  more  and 
more  of  a  mystery  to  me.  I  wondered  what  she  thought 
of  me,  and  if  she  speculated  upon  what  I  might  think 
of  her.  I  had  no  fault  to  find,  she  was  always  neat, 
always  industrious  about  our  little  household  affairs, 
quick  to  supply  my  wants.  But  that  wasn't  enough. 
I  wanted  to  know  her,  her  thoughts  and  beliefs.  I 
wanted  her  to  talk  and  laugh  with  me,  and  tell  stories, 
as  I  could  often  hear  her  doing  in  Madame  Berry's 
domicile.  Instead  of  that,  when  I  came  around,  the 
laugh  died  on  her  lips,  and  she  seemed  to  freeze,  to 
shrink  within  herself.  The  change  came  when  I  least 
expected  it.  I  was  down  in  the  Piegan  camp  one  after- 
noon and  learned  that  a  war  party  was  being  made  up 
to  raid  the  Crows.  Talks-with-the-buffalo  and  Weasel 
Tail  were  going,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  them.  I 
readily  agreed,  and  returned  to  the  post  to  prepare  for 
the  trip.  "  Nat-ah'-ki,"  I  said,  bursting  into  our  room, 
"give  me  all  the  moccasins  I  have,  some  clean  socks, 
some  pemmican.  Where  is  my  little  brown  canvas 
bag?  Where  have  you  put  my  gun  case?  Where " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

It  was  the  first  question  she  had  ever  asked  me. 

"Do?  I'm  going  to  war;  my  friends  are  going,  they 
asked  me  to  join  them " 

I  stopped,  for  she  suddenly  arose  and  faced  me,  and 
her  eyes  were  very  bright.  "You  are  going  to  war!" 
she  exclaimed.  "You,  a  white  man,  are  going  with  a 
lot  of  Indians  sneaking  over  the  plains  at  night  to  steal 


I  HAVE  A  LODGE  OF  MY  OWN  103 

horses,  and  perhaps  kill  some  poor  prairie  people.  You 
have  no  shame!" 

"Why,"  I  said,  rather  faintly,  I  presume,  "I  thought 
you  would  be  glad.  Are  not  the  Crows  your  enemies? 
I  have  promised,  I  must  go." 

"It  is  well  for  the  Indians  to  do  this,"  she  went  on, 
"but  not  for  a  white  man.  You,  you  are  rich;  you  have 
everything  you  want;  those  papers,  that  yellow  hard 
rock  (gold)  you  carry  will  buy  anything  you  want;  you 
should  be  ashamed  to  go  sneaking  over  the  plains  like  a 
coyote.  None  of  your  people  ever  did  that." 

"I  must  go."  I  reiterated.  "I  have  given  my  prom- 
ise to  go." 

Then  Nat-ah'-ki  began  to  cry,  and  she  came  nearer 
and  grasped  my  sleeve.  "Don't  go,"  she  pleaded,  "for 
if  you  do,  I  know  you  will  be  killed,  and  I  love  you  so 
much." 

I  was  never  so  surprised,  so  taken  aback,  as  it  were. 
All  these  weeks  of  silence,  then,  had  been  nothing  but 
her  natural  shyness,  a  veil  to  cover  her  feelings.  I  was 
pleased  and  proud  to  know  that  she  did  care  for  me,  but 
underlying  that  thought  was  another  one:  I  had  done 
wrong  in  taking  this  girl,  in  getting  her  to  care  for  me, 
when  in  a  short  time  I  must  return  her  to  her  mother 
and  leave  for  my  own  country. 

I  readtty  promised  not  to  accompany  the  war  party, 
and  then,  her  point  gained,  Nat-ah'-ki  suddenly  felt 
that  she  had  been  over-bold  and  tried  to  assume  her 
reserve  again.  But  I  would  not  have  it  that  way.  I 
grasped  her  hand  and  made  her  sit  down  by  my  side, 
and  pointed  out  to  her  that  she  was  wrong;  that  to 
laugh,  to  joke,  to  be  good  friends  and  companions  was 
better  than  to  pass  our  days  in  silence,  repressing  all 
natural  feeling.  After  that,  the  sun  always  shone. 

I  don't  know  that  I  have  done  right  in  putting  all 


104  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

this  on  paper,  yet  I  think  that  if  Nat-ah'-ki  could  know 
what  I  have  written  she  would  smile  and  say:  "Oh, 
yes,  tell  it  all;  tell  it  just  as  it  was." 

For  as  you  shall  learn,  it  all  came  right  in  the  end,  all 
except  the  last,  the  very  end. 

You  who  have  read  the  book  "Blackfoot  Lodge 
Tales"  will  remember  that  it  was  not  allowable  for  a 
Blackfoot  to  meet  his  mother-in-law.  I  fancy  that  there 
are  many  white  men  who  would  rejoice  if  such  a  custom 
prevailed  in  civilised  society.  Among  the  Blackfeet  a 
man  could  never  visit  the  lodge  of  his  mother-in-law, 
she  could  not  enter  his  lodge  when  he  was  at  home,  both 
were  obliged  to  go  far  out  of  the  way,  to  endure  any  dis- 
comfort, in  order  to  avoid  meeting  at  any  time  and  place. 
This  queer  custom  caused  not  a  few  ludicrous  scenes. 
I  once  saw  a  tall  and  dignified  chief  fall  backward 
behind  a  high  counter  as  his  mother-in-law  appeared  in 
the  doorway  of  the  store.  I  have  seen  a  man  drop  by 
the  side  of  a  trail  and  cover  himself  with  his  robe;  and 
once  I  saw  one  jump  off  a  high  cut  bank,  clothes,  robe, 
and  all,  into  deep  water,  as  the  mother-in-law  suddenly 
appeared  nearby.  In  the  case  of  a  white  man,  however, 
this  custom  was  somewhat  modified.  Knowing  that 
he  paid  no  attention  to  it,  the  mother-in-law  would 
come  into  a  room  or  lodge  where  he  was,  but  would  not 
speak  to  him.  I  had  taken  a  fancy  to  my  mother-in- 
law,  and  I  was  glad  to  have  her  come  around.  After 
a  time  I  even  succeeded  in  getting  her  to  talk  to  me. 
She  was  a  good  woman,  a  woman  of  great  firmness  of 
character  and  rectitude,  and  she  had  brought  up  her 
daughter  to  be  like  her.  The  two  thought  everything 
of  each  other,  and  Nat-ah'-ki  never  tired  of  telling  how 
much  the  good  mother  had  done  for  her,  what  advice 
she  had  given,  how  many  sacrifices  she  had  made  for 
her  child's  sake. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    KILLING   OF   A    BEAR 

TOWARD  the  end  of  April  we  abandoned  the  trad- 
ing post.  Berry  intended  to  resume  freighting 
to  the  mines  as  soon  as  the  steamboats  began  to  arrive, 
and  moved  his  family  into  Fort  Benton.  Thither  also 
went  Sorrel  Horse  and  his  outfit.  The  Bloods  and 
Blackfeet  moved  north  to  summer  on  the  Belly  and 
Saskatchewan  rivers.  Most  of  the  Piegans  trailed  over 
to  Milk  River  and  the  Sweetgrass  Hills  country.  The 
band  with  which  I  was  connected,  the  Small  Robes, 
pulled  out  for  the  foot  of  the  Rockies,  and  I  went  with 
them.  I  had  purchased  a  lodge  and  a  half  dozen  pack 
and  train  animals  to  transport  our  outfit.  We  had  a 
Dutch  oven,  two  fry  pans,  a  couple  of  small  kettles, 
and  some  tin  and  iron  tableware,  of  which  Nat-ah'-ki 
was  very  proud.  Our  commissary  consisted  of  one 
sack  of  flour,  some  sugar,  salt,  beans,  coffee,  bacon,  and 
dried  apples.  I  had  plenty  of  tobacco  and  cartridges. 
We  were  rich;  the  world  was  before  us.  When  the 
time  came  to  move,  I  attempted  to  help  pack  our  outfit, 
but  Nat-ah'-ki  stopped  me  at  once. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed?"  she  said.  "This  is  my  work; 
go  up  in  front  there  and  ride  with  the  chiefs.  I'll  at- 
tend to  this." 

I  did  as  I  was  ordered  to  do.  After  that  I  rode  ahead 
with  the  big  men,  or  hunted  along  by  the  way,  and  at 
evening  on  arriving  at  camp  there  was  our  lodge  set  up, 
a  pile  of  fuel  beside  it,  a  bright  fire  within,  over  which 


io6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  evening  meal  was  being  prepared.  The  girl  and 
her  mother  had  done  it  all,  and  when  everything  was  in 
order  the  latter  went  away  to  the  lodge  of  her  brother, 
with  whom  she  lived.  We  had  many  visitors,  and  I 
was  constantly  being  asked  to  go  and  feast  and  smoke 
with  this  one  and  that  one.  Our  store  of  provisions 
did  not  last  long,  and  we  soon  were  reduced  to  a  diet 
of  meat  straight.  Every  one  was  contented  with  that 
but  I;  how  I  did  long  at  times  for  an  apple  pie,  for 
some  potatoes  even.  I  often  dreamed  that  I  was  the 
happy  possessor  of  some  candy. 

Leaving  the  abandoned  fort  we  followed  up  the 
Marias,  then  its  most  northern  tributary,  the  Cutbank 
River,  until  we  came  to  the  pines  at  the  foot  of  the 
Rockies.  Here  was  game  in  vast  numbers;  not  many 
buffalo  nor  antelope  just  there,  but  elk,  deer,  mountain 
sheep,  and  moose  were  even  more  plentiful  than  I  had 
seen  them  south  of  the  Missouri.  As  for  bears,  the 
whole  country  was  torn  up  by  them.  None  of  the  women 
would  venture  out  after  fuel  or  poles  for  lodge  or  travois 
without  an  escort.  Many  of  the  hunters  never  molested 
a  grizzly,  the  bear  being  regarded  as  a  sort  of  medicine 
or  sacred  animal,  many  believing  that  it  was  really  a 
human  being.  It  was  commonly  called  Kyai'-yo,  but 
the  medicine-pipe  men  were  obliged  when  speaking  of 
it  to  call  it  Pah'-ksi-kwo-yi,  sticky  mouth.  They,  too, 
were  the  only  ones  who  could  take  any  of  the  skin  of 
a  bear,  and  then  merely  a  strip  for  a  head  band  or  pipe 
wrapping.  It  was  allowable,  however,  for  anyone  to 
use  the  bear's  claws  for  a  necklace  or  other  ornament. 
Some  of  the  more  adventurous  wore  a  three  or  four- 
row  necklace  of  their  own  killing,  of  which  they  were 
very  proud. 

One  morning  with  Heavy  Breast  I  went  up  on  the 


THE  KILLING  OF  A  BEAR  107 

divide  between  Cutbank  and  Milk  River.  He  said  that 
we  could  easily  ride  through  the  pines  there  to  the  foot 
of  a  bare  mountain  where  there  were  always  more  or 
less  sheep.  We  wanted  some  meat,  and  at  that  season 
the  mountain  rams  were  even  in  better  order  than  were 
the  buck  antelope  on  the  plains.  We  found  broad  game 
trails  running  through  the  timber,  and  soon  came  near 
the  inner  edge  of  it.  Dismounting  and  securing  our 
horses,  we  went  on  carefully,  and  in  a  few  moments 
could  see,  through  the  interlacing  branches  of  the  pines, 
a  good-sized  band  of  bighorn,  all  rams,  trailing  across 
the  shell  rock  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff.  I  let  Heavy  Breast 
have  the  first  shot,  and  he  missed  altogether.  Before 
he  could  reload  I  managed  to  get  two  of  the  animals 
with  my  Henry.  Both  were  very  large  ones  with  some 
little  fat  on  their  ribs,  and,  having  all  the  meat  we  cared 
to  pack,  we  loaded  our  horses  and  started  homeward. 
Passing  out  of  the  pines  we  saw,  some  four  or  five  hun- 
dred yards  distant,  a  large  grizzly  industriously  tearing 
-ip  the  sod  on  the  bare  hillside,  in  search  of  a  gopher, 
or  ants'  nest. 

"Let  us  kill  him,"  I  exclaimed. 

"Ok-yi  (come  on),"  said  Heavy  Breast,  but  with  an 
inflection  which  meant,  "All  right,  but  it's  your  prop- 
osition, not  mine." 

We  rode  along  in  the  edge  of  the  timber  down  under 
the  hill,  my  companion  praying,  promising  the  Sun  an 
offering,  and  begging  for  success.  At  the  foot  of  the 
hill  we  turned  into  a  deep  coulee  and  followed  it  up  until 
we  thought  we  were  quite  near  to  the  place  where  we 
had  seen  the  bear;  then  we  rode  up  out  of  it,  and,  sure 
enough,  there  was  the  old  fellow  not  fifty  yards  away. 
He  saw  us  as  quickly  as  we  did  him, sat  uponhis  haunches 
and  wiggled  his  nose  as  he  sniffed  the  air.  We  both 


io8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

fired  and  with  a  hair-lifting  roar  the  bear  rolled  over, 
biting  and  clawing  at  his  flank  where  a  bullet  had  struck 
him,  and  then  springing  to  his  feet  he  charged  us  open- 
mouthed.  We  both  urged  our  horses  off  to  the  north, 
for  it  was  not  a  wise  thing  to  turn  back  down  the  hill. 
I  fired  a  couple  of  shots  at  the  old  fellow  as  fast  as  I 
could,  but  without  effect.  The  bear  meantime  had 
covered  the  ground  with  surprisingly  long  bounds,  and 
was  already  quite  close  to  the  heels  of  my  companion's 
horse.  I  fired  again  and  made  another  miss,  and  just 
then  Heavy  Breast,  his  saddle,  and  his  sheep  meat 
parted  company  with  the  fleeing  pony;  the  cinch,  an 
old,  worn,  rawhide  band,  had  broken. 

"Hai  ya',  my  friend!"  he  cried,  pleadingly,  as  he 
soared  up  in  the  air,  still  astride  the  saddle.  Down 
they  came  with  a  loud  thud  not  two  steps  in  front  of 
the  onrushing  bear,  and  that  animal,  with  a  dismayed 
and  frightened  "woof,"  turned  sharply  about  and  fled 
back  toward  the  timber,  I  after  him.  I  kept  firing  and 
firing,  and  finally  by  a  lucky  shot  broke  his  back  bone; 
it  was  easy  then  to  finish  him  with  a  deliberately  aimed 
bullet  in  the  base  of  the  brain.  When  it  was  all  over 
I  suddenly  remembered  how  ridiculous  Heavy  Breast 
had  appeared  soaring  on  a  horseless  saddle,  and  how  his 
eyes  bulged  as  he  called  upon  me  for  aid.  I  began  to 
laugh  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  never  could  stop.  My 
companion  had  come  up  beside  me  and  stood,  very 
solemn,  looking  at  me  and  the  bear. 

"Do  not  laugh,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "Do  not  laugh. 
Rather,  pray  to  the  good  Sun,  make  sacrifice  to  him,  that 
when  you  are  sometime  hard  pressed  by  the  enemy, 
or  such  another  one  as  he  lying  here,  you  may  as  for- 
tunately escape  as  did  I.  Surely  the  Sun  listened  to  my 
prayer.  I  promised  to  sacrifice  to  him,  intending  to 


THE  KILLING  OF  A  BEAR  109 

hang  up  that  fine  white  blanket  I  have  just  bought.  I 
will  now  do  better.  I  will  hang  up  the  blanket  and 
my  otter  skin  cap." 

The  bear  had  a  fine  coat  of  fur,  and  I  determined  to 
take  it  and  have  it  tanned.  Heavy  Breast  took  my 
horse  in  order  to  catch  his,  which  had  run  out  of  sight 
into  the  valley,  and  I  set  to  work.  It  was  no  small  task, 
for  the  bear  was  quite  fat,  and  I  wanted  to  get  the  hide 
off  as  clean  as  possible.  Long  before  I  accomplished  it 
my  friend  returned  with  his  animal,  dismounted  a  little 
way  off,  sat  down,  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe. 

"Help  me,"  I  said,  after  he  had  smoked.  "I'm 
getting  tired." 

"I  cannot  do  so,"  said  he.  "It  is  against  my  medi- 
cine; my  dream  forbade  me  to  touch  a  bear." 

We  arrived  in  camp  betimes,  and  hearing  me  ride 
up  beside  the  lodge,  Nat-ah'-ki  hurried  out. 

"Kyai-yo'I"  she  exclaimed,  seeing  the  bear  skin. 
"Kyai-yo'I"  she  again  exclaimed,  and  hurried  back 
inside. 

I  thought  that  rather  strange,  for  when  I  came  in 
from  a  hunt  she  always  insisted  upon  unpacking  and 
unsaddling  my  mount,  and  leading  the  animal  over  to 
the  lodge  of  a  boy  who  took  care  of  my  little  band.  After 
I  had  done  this  I  went  inside;  a  dish  of  boiled  boss 
ribs,  a  bowl  of  soup  were  ready  for  me.  As  I  ate  I  told 
about  the  day's  hunt,  but  when  I  described  how  Heavy 
Breast  had  sailed  through  the  air  and  how  he  looked 
when  he  cried  out  to  me,  Nat-ah'-ki  did  not  laugh  with 
me.  I  thought  that  strange,  also,  for  she  was  so  quick 
to  see  the  comical  side  of  things. 

"It  is  a  fine  hide,"  I  concluded;  "long,  thick,  dark 
hair.  I  wish  you  would  tan  it  for  me." 

"Ah!"   she  exclaimed,  "I  knew  you  would  ask  that 


no  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

as  soon  as  I  saw  it.  Have  pity  on  me,  for  I  cannot  do 
it.  I  cannot  touch  it.  Only  here  and  there  is  a  woman, 
or  even  a  man,  who  through  the  power  of  their  medicine 
can  handle  a  bear  skin.  To  others  who  attempt  it 
some  great  misfortune  befalls;  sickness,  even  death. 
None  of  us  here  would  dare  to  tan  the  skin.  There  is  a 
woman  of  the  Kut-ai'-im-iks  (Do-not-laugh  band)  who 
would  do  it  for  you,  another  in  the  Buffalo-chip  band; 
yes,  there  are  several,  but  they  are  all  far  away." 

I  said  no  more  about  it,  and  after  a  while  went  out 
and  stretched  the  skin,  by  pegging  it  to  the  ground. 
Nat-ah'-ki  was  uneasy,  repeatedly  coming  out  to  watch 
me  for  a  moment,  and  then  hurrying  inside  again.  I 
kept  on  at  work;  there  was  still  a  lot  of  fat  on  the  skin; 
try  as  I  would  I  could  not  get  it  all  off.  I  was  pretty 
greasy  and  tired  of  my  job  when  night  came. 

I  awoke  soon  after  daylight.  Nat-ah'-ki  was  already 
up  and  out.  I  could  hear  her  praying  near  the  lodge, 
telling  the  Sun  that  she  was  about  to  take  the  bearskin, 
flesh  and  tan  it.  She  begged  her  God  to  have  mercy  on 
her;  she  did  not  want  to;  she  feared  to  touch  the  un- 
clean thing,  but  her  man  wished  it  to  be  worked  into  a 
soft  robe. 

"Oh,  Sun!"  she  concluded,  "help  me,  protect  me 
from  the  evil  power  of  the  shadow  (the  spirit,  or  soul) 
of  this  bear.  I  will  sacrifice  to  you.  Let  my  good 
health  continue,  give  us  all,  my  man,  my  mother,  my 
relatives,  me,  give  us  all  long  life,  happiness;  let  us 
live  to  be  old." 

My  first  thought  was  to  call  out  and  say  that  she  need 
not  tan  the  skin,  that  I  really  did  not  care  for  a  bear 
robe  after  all ;  but  I  concluded  that  it  would  be  well  for 
her  to  do  the  work.  If  she  did  not  learn  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  malevolent  influence  of  the  bear's  spirit, 


THE  KILLING  OF  A  BEAR  ux 

she  would  at  least  beget  confidence  in  herself  and  her 
medicine.  So  I  lay  still  for  a  while,  listening  to  the 
quick  chuck-chuck  of  her  flesher  as  it  stripped  meat  and 
fat  from  the  skin.  After  a  little  she  came  in,  and  seeing 
that  I  was  awake,  built  a  fire  for  the  morning  meal.  As 
soon  as  it  began  to  burn  she  washed  herself  in  half  a 
dozen  waters,  and  then,  placing  some  dried  sweetgrass 
on  a  few  live  coals,  she  bent  over  its  fragrant  smoke, 
rubbing  her  hands  in  it. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  I  asked.  "Why  burning 
sweetgrass  this  early?" 

"I  purify  myself,"  she  replied.  "I  am  fleshing  the 
bearskin.  I  am  going  to  tan  it  for  you." 

"Now,  that  is  kind,"  I  told  her.  "When  we  go  to 
Fort  Benton  I  will  get  you  the  prettiest  shawl  I  can  find, 
and  is  there  any  sacrifice  to  be  made?  Tell  me,  that 
I  may  furnish  it." 

The  little  woman  was  pleased.  She  smiled  happily, 
and  then  became  very  serious.  Sitting  down  by  my 
side  she  bent  over  and  whispered: 

"I  have  prayed.  I  have  promised  a  sacrifice  for 
you  and  for  me.  We  must  give  something  good.  You 
have  two  short  guns  (revolvers) ;  can  you  not  spare  one  ? 
and  I,  I  will  give  my  blue  cloth  dress." 

The  blue  cloth  dress!  her  most  cherished  possession, 
seldom  worn  but  often  taken  from  its  parfleche  covering, 
smoothed  out,  folded,  refolded,  admired,  and  then  put 
away  again.  Surely,  if  she  could  part  with  that  I  could 
afford  to  lose  one  of  my  six-shooters.  One  of  them — 
they  were  the  old  Colt  cap  and  ball  affairs — had  a  trick 
of  discharging  all  the  chambers  at  once.  Yes,  I  would 
give  that.  So,  after  breakfast  we  went  out  a  little  way 
from  camp  and  hung  our  offerings  in  a  tree,  Nat-ah'-ki 
praying  while  I  climbed  up  and  securely  fastened  them 


ii2  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

to  a  sturdy  branch.  All  that  day  women  of  the  camp 
came  and  stared  at  the  tanner  of  the  bearskin,  some 
begging  her  to  quit  the  work  at  once,  all  prophesying 
that  she  would  in  some  way  have  bad  luck.  But  she 
heeded  them  not,  and  in  the  course  of  four  or  five  days 
I  had  a  large,  soft,  bear  rug  with  which  I  promptly  cov- 
ered our  couch.  But  there  it  seemed  it  could  not  remain 
if  I  cared  to  have  any  visitors,  for  none  of  my  friends 
would  enter  the  lodge  while  it  was  inside.  I  was  obliged 
to  store  it  away  under  a  couple  of  rawhides  behind  our 
home. 

We  remained  on  the  Cutbank  River  until  about  the 
first  of  June.  The  flies  were  becoming  troublesome 
and  we  moved  out  on  the  plains  where  they  were  not 
nearly  so  plentiful.  Swinging  over  the  ridge  we  went 
down  the  course  of  Milk  River  several  days'  journey, 
finally  camping  for  a  time  just  north  of  the  east  butte 
of  the  Sweetgrass  Hills,  where  the  rest  of  the  Piegans 
were  staying.  There  was  much  coming  and  going  of 
visitors  between  the  two  camps.  We  learned  that  a 
great  scandal  had  occurred  in  the  Do-not-laugh  band 
soon  after  leaving  the  Marias.  Yellow  Bird  Woman, 
the  young  and  pretty  wife  of  old  Looking  Back,  had  run 
away  with  a  youth  named  Two  Stars.  It  was  thought 
that  they  had  gone  north  to  the  Bloods  or  Blackfeet, 
and  the  husband  had  started  in  pursuit  of  them.  There 
was  much  talk  about  the  affair,  much  conjecture  as  to 
what  would  be  the  end  of  it.  We  soon  learned. 

One  evening  Nat-ah'-ki  informed  me  that  the  guilty 
couple  had  arrived  from  the  north,  and  were  in  the 
lodge  of  a  young  friend  of  theirs.  They  had  eluded  the 
husband  when  he  arrived  in  the  Blood  camp,  and 
doubled  back  south.  He  would  probably  go  on  to  the 
Blackfoot  camp  in  search  of  them,  and  they,  meanwhile, 


THE  KILLING  OF  A  BEAR.  113' 

were  going  on  to  visit  the  Gros  Ventres.  After  a  time 
they  hoped  he  would  give  up  the  chase,  and  then,  by 
paying  him  heavy  damages,  they  would  be  allowed  to 
live  together  in  peace.  The  very  next  morning,  how- 
ever, soon  after  sunrise,  our  camp  was  aroused  by  a 
woman's  piercing,  terror-stricken  shrieks.  Everyone 
sprang  from  bed  and  ran  out,  the  men  with  their  weapons 
thinking  that  perhaps  some  enemy  was  attacking  us. 
But  no,  'twas  Yellow  Bird  Woman  who  shrieked;  her 
husband  had  found  and  seized  her  as  she  was  going 
to  the  stream  for  water,  he  had  her  by  one  wrist  and 
was  dragging  her  to  the  lodge  of  our  chief,  the  woman 
hanging  back,  crying  and  struggling  to  get  loose.  Break- 
fast was  prepared  in  the  lodges,  but  that  morning  the 
camp  was  very  quiet.  There  was  no  singing,  no  laughter, 
no  talking,  even  the  children  were  still.  I  remarked 
upon  it  to  the  little  woman. 

" Hush,"  she  said,  "she  is  to  be  pitied;  I  think  some- 
thing dreadful  is  about  to  happen." 

Presently  we  heard  the  camp-crier  shouting  out  that 
there  was  to  be  a  council  in  Big  Lake's — our  chief's — 
lodge,  and  he  called  over  the  names  of  those  requested 
to  be  present;  medicine-pipe  men,  mature  hunters  and 
warriors,  wise  old  men.  One  by  one  they  went  over  to 
the  place;  a  profound  silence  settled  over  the  camp. 

We  had  our  breakfast  and  I  had  smoked  a  couple  of 
pipes  when  the  camp-crier  was  again  heard:  "All 
women!  all  women!"  he  shouted.  "You  are  to  as- 
semble at  once  at  the  lodge  of  our  chief,  where  a  pun- 
ishment is  about  to  take  place.  A  woman  has  been 
guilty  of  infidelity;  you  are  to  witness  what  happens  to 
one  who  so  disgraces  her  husband,  her  relatives,  and 
herself." 

I  imagine  that  few  women  wanted  to  go,  but  following 


ii4  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  camp-crier  were  the  Crazy  Dog  band  of  the  All 
Friends  Society,  camp  police  as  it  were,  who  went  from 
lodge  to  lodge  and  ordered  the  women  out.  As  one 
raised  the  flap  of  our  doorway  Nat-ah'-ki  sprang  over 
to  me  and  grasped  me  convulsively. 

"Come,"  said  the  policeman,  looking  in.  "Come, 
hurry!  Didn't  you  hear  the  call?" 

"She  is  no  longer  a  Piegan,"  I  said  quietly,  although 
I  felt  angry  enough.  "She  is  a  white  woman  now,  and 
she  does  not  go." 

I  thought  there  might  be  some  argument  about  the 
matter,  but  there  was  none;  the  man  dropped  the  door 
flap  and  went  away  without  a  word. 

We  waited  in  suspense.  ' '  What  are  they  going  to  do  ? " 
I  asked.  "Kill  her  or— the  other  thing?" 

Nat-ah'-ki  shuddered  and  did  not  answer,  clinging  to 
me  more  closely  than  e.ver.  Suddenly  we  heard  again 
those  piercing  shrieks;  then  again  all  was  silence  until 
a  man,  our  chief,  began  to  talk. 

"Kyi!"  he  said.  "You  all  here  standing,  have  wit- 
nessed what  befalls  one  who  proves  untrue  to  her  hus- 
band. It  is  a  great  crime,  unfaithfulness.  In  the  long 
ago  our  fathers  counselled  together  as  to  what  should 
be  the  punishment  of  a  woman  who  brought  sorrow  and 
shame  to  the  lodge  of  her  man  and  her  parents.  And 
as  they  decided  should  be  done,  so  has  it  been  done  to 
this  woman  to-day  that  all  you  witnessing  it  may  take 
warning.  She  is  marked  with  a  mark  she  will  bear  as 
long  as  she  lives.  Wherever  she  goes  people  will  look 
and  laugh  and  say:  'Ha,  a  cut-nosed  woman!  There 
goes  a  woman  of  loose  character;  isn't  she  pretty?'" 

Then,  one  after  another,  several  men  made  little 
speeches,  each  one  to  the  same  effect,  and  when  they 
had  finished  the  chief  told  the  people  to  disperse.  The 


THE  KILLING  OF  A  BEAR  115 

woman  in  the  case  went  to  the  river  to  wash  her  bleeding 
face;  her  nose  had  been  cut  off.  From  the  bridge  to 
the  lip  it  had  been  entirely  removed  with  one  deep  con- 
caved slash.  She  was  a  horrible  sight,  an  animated 
human  skull. 

The  youth?  He  had  hurried  away  to  his  own  camp 
and  lodge  as  soon  as  the  woman  was  caught.  Nothing 
was  said  nor  done  to  him.  In  that  we  civilised  and  un- 
civilised people  are  alike.  The  woman  always  suffers 
but  the  man  goes  free. 

"You  see,"  Nat-ah'-ki  told  me,  "the  woman  was  not 
to  blame;  she  had  always  loved  Two  Stars,  but  he  is 
very  poor  and  her  bad  father  made  her  go  to  bad  old 
Looking  Back,  who  had  already  five  women,  and  is 
verv  mean  and  cruel  to  them.  Oh,  I  pity  herl" 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    KUTENAI'S    STORY 

IT  WAS  after  breakfast.  Nat-ah'-ki  recombed  and 
rebraided  her  hair,  binding  it  with  a  bright  blue 
ribbon,  donned  her  best  dress,  put  on  her  prettiest  pair 
of  moccasins. 

"What   now?"     I   asked.     "Why   all   this   finery?" 

"This  morning  Lone  Elk  takes  out  his  sacred  pipe, 
carrying  it  about  through  the  camp.  We  follow  him. 
Will  you  not  come?" 

Of  course  I  would  go,  and  I  also  put  on  my  finery,  a 
pair  of  fringed  bxickskin  trousers,  with  bright,  beaded 
vine-work  running  along  the  outer  seams;  a  fringed  and 
beaded  buckskin  shirt,  a  pair  of  •  gorgeous  moccasins. 
I  fancy  that  I  must  have  been  rather  picturesque  in 
that  costume,  with  my  hair  so  long  that  it  rippled  down 
over  my  shoulders.  The  Indians  hated  to  see  hair 
worn  cropped  short.  Many  a  time,  in  speaking  of  the 
old  days,  the  various  factors  and  other  prominent  men 
of  the  American  Fur  Company,  I  have  heard  them  say: 
"Yes,  so  and  so  was  a  chief;  he  wore  long  hair.  There 
are  no  more  white  chiefs;  all  those  we  now  meet  are 
sheared." 

We  were  late.  There  was  such  a  crowd  in  and  around 
the  lodge  of  the  medicine  man  that  we  could  not  get 
near  it,  but  the  lodge  skin  was  raised  all  around  and  we 
could  see  what  was  going  on.  With  hands  purified  by 
the  smoke  of  burning  sweetgrass,  Lone  Elk  was  remov- 

116 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  117 

ing  the  wrappings  of  the  pipe,  or,  to  be  exact,  the  pipe- 
stem;  singing,  he  and  those  seated  in  the  lodge,  the 
appropriate  song  for  each  wrap.  There  was  the  song  of 
the  antelope,  of  the  wolf,  the  bear,  the  buffalo,  the  last 
very  slow,  deep,  solemn.  At  last  the  long  stem — eagle- 
plumed,  fur-wrapped,  gorgeous  with  tufts  of  brilliant 
feathers,  lay  exposed — and  reverently  lifting  it  he  held  it 
up  toward  the  sun,  down  toward  the  earth,  pointed  it 
to  the  north,  south,  east,  and  west  as  he  prayed  for  health, 
'aappiness,  long  life  for  all  of  us.  Then,  rising,  and  hold- 
Ing  the  stem  extended  in  front  of  him  he  danced  slowly, 
deliberately  out  of  the  lodge,  the  men,  I  too,  falling  in  one 
by  one  behind  him.  So  did  the  women  and  the  children, 
until  there  were  several  hundred  of  us  in  the  long,  snake- 
like  procession,  dancing  along,  weaving  in  and  out  round 
the  lodges  of  the  camp,  singing  the  various  songs,  of  the 
medicine  pipe.  A  song  finished,  we  rested  a  little  before 
another  one  was  started,  and  in  the  interval  the  people 
talked  and  laughed.  They  were  happy;  not  one  there 
but  believed  in  the  efficacy  of  their  prayers  and  devotion ; 
that  the  Sun  was  pleased  to  see  them  there,  dressed  in 
their  very  best,  dancing  in  his  honour.  Thus  we  went 
on  and  on,  and  around  and  around,  until  the  whole  circuit 
of  the  camp  had  been  made  and  our  leader  came  to  the 
doorway  of  his  lodge;  there  he  dismissed  us  and  we 
wended  our  several  ways  homeward  to  resume  our  every- 
day clothing  and  occupations. 

"Kyi,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki,  "Wasn't  it  a  happy  dance? 
And  how  fine  the  people  looked  dressed  in  their  good 
clothes." 

"Ai,"  I  replied,  "it  was  a  joy  dance  and  the  people 
looked  fine.  There  was  one  girl  I  noticed,  prettiest  and 
best  dressed  of  all." 

' '  Who  was  it  ?    Tell  me  quick ! ' ' 


1 1 8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Why,  the  white  woman  who  lives  in  this  lodge,  of 
course." 

Nat-ah'-ki  said  nothing,  turning  away  from  me  in  fact, 
but  I  caught  the  expression  of  her  eyes;  she  was  pleased, 
but  too  shy  to  let  me  know  it. 

The  June  days  were  long,  but  to  me  they  seemed  to 
fly.  To  hunt,  to  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  lodges  and  idly1 
watch  the  people  at  their  various  work,  to  listen  to  the 
old  men's  stories  was  all  very  interesting.  One  day  there 
came  to  our  camp  three  Kutenai  Indians,  bringing  to 
Big  Lake  some  tobacco  from  their  chief  and  the  pro- 
posal of  a  visit  of  his  tribe  to  the  Piegans.  They  had 
come  straight  to  us  from  their  country  across  the  Rockies, 
up  through  the  dense  forests  of  the  western  slope,  over 
the  glacier-capped  heights  of  the  great  mountains,  down 
the  deep  canon  of  Cutbank  Stream,  and  then  straight 
to  our  camp,  a  hundred  miles  out  in  the  vast  plain.  How 
knew  they  whence  to  shape  their  course  with  such  cer- 
tainty, to  go  straight  to  the  only  camp  in  all  that  immense 
stretch  of  mountain  and  butte-sentinelled,  rolling  plain? 
Perhaps  it  was  partly  instinct.  They  may  have  struck 
the  trail  of  some  homing  war-party,  some  marauding 
party  of  their  own  people  may  have  given  them  the 
location  of  those  they  sought.  Anyhow,  straight  to  us 
they  came  from  the  headwaters  of  the  Columbia,  and  our 
chiefs  took  the  tobacco  they  brought,  smoked  it  in 
council,  and  pronounced  it  good.  Some  there  were 
who  having  lost  relatives  in  war  against  the  mountain 
tribe,  objected  to  making  peace  with  them,  and  talked 
earnestly  against  it.  But  the  majority  were  against 
them,  and  the  messengers  departed  with  word  to  their 
chief  that  the  Piegans  would  be  glad  to  have  a  long  visit 
from  him  and  his  people. 

In  due  time  they  came,  not  many  of  them,  no  more 


:(''  This  morning  Lone  Elk  takes  out  his  sacred  pipe. 
Will  you  not  come?'" 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  119 

than  seven  hundred  all  told,  which,  I  understood,  was 
the  larger  part  of  the  tribe.  They  were  very  different 
physically  from  the  Piegans,  no  taller,  perhaps,  but 
much  heavier  built,  with  larger  hands  and  feet.  This 
was  naturally  the  result  of  their  mountain  life ;  they  were 
great  bighorn  and  goat  hunters,  and  constant  climbing 
had  developed  their  leg  muscles  almost  abnormally. 
The  Blackfeet  disdained  that  sort  of  life ;  they  would  not 
hunt  that  which  they  could  not  ride  to  or  near,  and  the 
hardest  work  they  ever  did  was  to  butcher  the  animals 
they  killed  and  pack  the  meat  on  the  horses.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  their  hands  and  feet  were  small  and  delicately 
fashioned,  the  former  as  soft  and  smooth  as  those  of  a 
woman. 

Old  Sah'-aw-ko-kin-ap-i,  Back-in-sight,  the  Kute- 
nai  chief,  came  on  with  a  few  of  his  head  men  some  little 
time  in  advance  of  the  main  body,  and  ere  our  chief  Big 
Lake  was  aware  that  the  expected  visitors  were  any- 
where near,  the  door-flap  of  his  lodge  was  raised  and  the 
Kutenais  entered.  Taken  thusby  surpriseit  was  custom- 
ary for  the  host  to  make  the  visitor  a  present,  and  by  the 
end  of  the  first  smoke  the  Kutenai  chief  was  five  horses 
richer  than  when  he  entered  the  camp. 

The  Kutenais  pitched  their  lodges  close  by  our  camp 
and  ere  the  women  fairly  got  them  up  and  fires  burning, 
visiting  and  feasting  and  exchanging  presents  between 
the  two  tribes  was  in  full  swing.  The  Kutenais  brought 
with  them  large  quantities  of  arrowroot  and  dried  camas, 
the  latter  a  yellow,  sweet,  sticky,  roasted  bulb  which 
tasted  good  to  one  who  had  not  seen  a  vegetable  of  any 
kind  for  months.  The  Piegans  were  exceedingly  pleased 
to  get  these,  and  in  return  gave  the  Kutenai  wives  much 
of  their  stores  of  choice  pemmican  and  dried  meats,  and 
they  bartered  buffalo  leather  and  parfleche  for  the 


lao  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

tanned  skins  of  sheep  and  moose,  and  other  mountain 
animals. 

Of  course  the  young  men  of  both  tribes  went  courting. 
In  the  Kutenai  camp  were  the  Piegan  youths,  and  vice 
versa,  standing  around  in  silent  stateliness,  decked  out 
in  all  their  gorgeous  finery,  their  faces  strikingly  painted, 
their  long  hair  neatly  braided.  The  more  fortunate  of 
them  carried  suspended  by  a  thong  from  the  left  wrist 
a  small  mirror  which  kept  turning  and  flashing  in  the 
bright  sunlight;  sometimes  the  mirror  was  set  into  a 
rude  wooden  frame  carved  by  the  owner  and  brightly 
painted.  Of  course  these  gallants  of  the  plains  never 
spoke  to  any  of  the  maidens  about,  nor  could  one  be  sure, 
from  observation,  that  they  even  looked  at  them.  They 
stood  here,  there,  by  the  hour,  apparently  gazing  away 
off  at  some  far  distant  object,  but  on  the  sly  they  were 
really  watching  the  girls,  and  knew  intimately  every 
feature  of  each  one's  face,  every  little  trait  of  action  and 
repose;  and  the  maids,  oh,  they  were,  apparently,  wholly 
unaware  that  there  were  any  young  men  in  the  camp. 
You  never  caught  one  looking  at  them,  but  they  did  all 
the  same,  and  then  they  would  get  together  and  discuss 
the  looks  of  this  one  and  that  one,  and  his  valour,  and 
temper,  just  as  do  white  girls.  I  am  sure  of  this,  for 
Nat-ah'-ki  told  me  all  about  it,  and  how,  in  secret,  they 
ridiculed  and  laughed  at  some  vainglorious  swain  who 
did  not  please  them,  but  who  himself  thought  that  he  was 
the  only  perfect  and  charming  beau  of  the  camp. 

There  was  much  racing,  much  gambling  and  dancing 
by  the  younger  men  of  the  two  camps.  Their  elders 
looked  on  at  it  all  in  quiet  approval,  and  talked  of  their 
hunts  and  battles,  and  the  strange  places  and  things 
they  had  seen.  Most  of  this  talk  was  in  signs,  but  there 
were  a  few  Kutenais,  both  men  and  women,  who  could 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  121 

speak  Blackfoot,  having  learned  it  when  captives,  or 
upon  the  occasion  of  a  long  sojourn  in  the  tribe.  Indeed, 
there  was  no  surrounding  tribe  which  had  not  one  or  two 
Blackfoot-speaking  members.  None  of  the  Blackfeet, 
however,  spoke  any  language  other  than  their  own,  and 
the  sign  language ;  they  held  all  other  people  as  inferiors 
and  regarded  it  as  beneath  their  dignity  to  learn  any 
other  tongue.  One  Blackfoot-speaking  Kutenai,  a  very 
aged  but  still  fairly  active  man,  was  a  frequent  visitor 
to  my  lodge.  He  must  have  felt  that  he  was  welcome 
there,  for  a  bowl  of  food  and  plenty  to  smoke  were 
always  ready  for  him.  In  return  for  my  hospitality 
and  frequent  gifts  of  a  cut  of  tobacco,  he  told  me  stories 
of  his  travels  and  adventures.  He  had  been  a  great 
wanderer  in  his  time,  an  ethnologist  in  a  way,  for  he 
had  been  among  many  tribes  in  various  parts  of  the 
country,  from  the  Blackfoot  land  to  the  coast,  and  south 
as  far  as  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  had  made  a  study  of 
their  languages  and  customs.  One  evening  he  told  us 
what  he  called  his  "Story  of  the  Fish-eaters,"  which 
Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  thought  interesting. 

"This  happened  long  ago  in  my  youthful  days,"  he 
said,  "We  were  four,  all  single,  close  friends  to  one 
another.  We  had  been  on  several  raids  which  were 
successful,  and  we  were  acquiring  each  a  nice  band  of 
horses  and  things  for  the  time  when  we  should  take 
women  and  have  lodges  of  our  own.  There  were  many 
who  wished  to  join  us  on  our  expeditions,  but  we  did  not 
care  to  have  them,  for  we  thought  four  the  lucky  number, 
one  for  each  direction  of  the  world.  Indeed,  among 
ourselves  we  did  not  call  each  other  by  our  proper  names, 
but  by  the  different  directions;  thus,  one  was  named 
North,  another  South,  another  East ;  I  was  West.  Twice 
we  had  been  out  raiding  on  the  plains;  once  we  went 


122  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

south;  this  time  we  started  westward,  having  heard 
that  away  down  on  a  big  river  lived  a  people  rich  in 
horses.  It  was  early  in  the  summer  when  we  started,  and 
we  had  made  up  our  minds  to  travel  on  and  on  until  we 
found  these  fine  herds  of  horses,  even  if  they  were  two 
or  three  moons'  journey  away.  We  carried  besides  our 
weapons  and  lariats  and  extra  moccasins  some  awls  and 
sinew  thread  so  that  we  could  make  ior  ourselves  new 
clothing,  new  footwear,  if  that  we  had  should  wear  out. 
"We  went  down  by  the  lake  of  the  Flatheads,  camp- 
ing and  resting  two  days  with  them,  and  thence  we 
travelled  on  to  the  lake  of  the  Pend  d'Oreilles,  through  a 
great  forest  where  often  there  were  no  trails  except  those 
made  by  the  game.  At  the  lake,  near  the  north  end  of 
it,  we  saw  the  smoke  of  the  Pend  d'Oreilles'  fires,  and 
several  of  their  boats  away  out  on  the  water.  But  we 
did  not  go  near  their  camp.  They  had  good  herds,  from 
which  we  might  have  taken  our  pick  if  we  had  wished 
to,  but  we  pressed  on;  we  were  bent  on  discovery;  we 
wanted  to  see  the  far  land  and  its  people.  The  forest 
grew  denser,  darker,  as  we  went  on ;  the  trees  were  larger 
than  any  we  had  seen  before.  There  was  little  game; 
the  animals  and  birds  seemed  never  to  have  lived  in  it; 
it  was  too  dark  and  cheerless  in  there.  Animals  and 
birds,  as  well  as  men,  love  the  sun.  The  deer  and  the 
moose  may  seek  thick  cover  when  they  wish  to  rest,  but 
they  never  go  far  from  some  open  place  where  they  can 
stand  in  the  warm  sunshine  and  see  the  blue  above  them. 
And  it  is  the  same  with  men.  Those  poor  and  horseless 
tribes,  whose  stingy  gods  gave  them  only  a  forest  for 
their  hunting  ground,  do  not  stay  in  its  dark  and  silent 
belly,  but  pitch  their  mean  lodges  on  some  opening  by 
the  shore  of  a  lake  or  river,  or  where  a  fire  has  cleared  a 
small  space.  We  did  not  like  that  great  wood  we 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  123 

travelled  through.  Our  food  gave  out,  and  were  it  not 
for  a  few  fish  we  shot  with  our  arrows  we  must  have 
starved.  We  grew  poor  in  flesh  and  in  spirits,  sitting 
about  our  evening  fires  in  silence,  except  to  question  if 
there  were  any  end  to  the  timber,  and  if  it  were  not  better 
to  turn  and  take  our  back  trail.  Even  East,  who  was 
always  talking  and  joking,  now  kept  silent.  We  would 
have  turned  back,  I  think,  except  that  we  hated  to  give 
up  what  we  had  set  out  to  do,  for  fear  it  would  bring  us 
bad  luck  in  the  future.  Little  did  we  think  that  worse 
than  bad  luck  lay  in  wait  for  us  ahead.  Yet,  I  believe 
we  had  the  warning  in  a  way,  for  I  felt  uneasy,  afraid,  but 
of  what  I  could  not  say.  The  others  felt  as  I  did,  but 
none  of  them  would  give  in  any  more  than  I.  Afterward 
I.  took  heed  of  that  feeling!  Three  times  I  turned  back 
after  starting  on  a  raid,  and  on  one  of  the  times  I  know 
I  did  what  was  wise,  for  my  companions,  who  laughed  at 
me  and  kept  on,  never  again  saw  their  lodges. 

"After  many  days  we  came  at  last  to  an  open  country. 
There  were  bunches  of  timber  here  and  there,  but  for 
the  most  part  the  land  was  prairie,  with  many  ledges 
and  buttes  and  boulders  of  dark-brown,  bare  rock.  The 
river  had  grown  wider,  deeper,  and  its  current  was  strong. 
Here  there  were  elk,  plenty  of  them,  and  deer,  many 
black  bears,  many  grouse,  and  once  more  we  heard  the 
little  birds  singing.  We  killed  a  young  bull  elk  and 
feasted  upon  it,  and  felt  good.  There  was  no  sign  of 
people  anywhere  about;  no  horse  trails,  no  smoke  of 
camp  fires.  We  thought  it  safe  to  build  a  fire  even  then 
in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  we  lay  about  it  until  the 
next  morning,  resting,  eating,  sleeping.  With  the  sun- 
rise we  were  off  once  more,  travelling  very  cautiously, 
climbing  every  butte  and  ridge  to  see  what  was  ahead. 
That  day  there  was  no  sign  of  men,  but  on  the  next  one 


134  MY    LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

we  saw  smoke  away  down  the  river,  and  keeping  within 
the  fringe  of  timber  which  bordered  the  stream,  we  went 
on  until  we  could  see  that  it  was  rising  on  the  opposite 
side.  Away  down  there  somewhere  near  the  place  of 
encampment,  we  could  hear  a  roaring  sound  as  of  a  big 
rapid,  and  even  where  we  were  the  current  was  strong. 
Now  here  was  something  to  talk  over,  and  right  there  we 
considered  it.  If  we  crossed  over  and  took  some  horses, 
was  there  a  trail  on  that  side  by  which  we  could  hurry 
them  in  a  homeward  direction;  and  if  none,  how  were 
we  to  get  them  across  the  wide,  swift  river  and  on  to  the 
trail  over  which  we  had  come.  At  last  he  whom  we 
had  named  South  said: 

"  'We  are  wasting  time  talking  about  this  now,  when 
we  have  not  yet  seen  the  far  side,  nor  the  horses,  nor 
even  the  people  and  their  camp.  Let  us  cross  over, 
see  what  is  to  be  seen,  and  then  decide  what  is  best  to  do.' 

"  His  words  were  wise,  and  we  took  them.  There 
was  plenty  of  drift  wood,  and  near  sundown  we  rolled 
a  piece  of  it,  a  short,  dry  log,  down  into  the  water,  lash- 
ing another,  a  very  small  one,  to  it  so  that  it  would  not 
turn  over  and  over.  We  decided  not  to  wait  until 
night  to  cross,  for  the  river  was  wide  and  swift,  and  we 
wanted  to  see  our  course.  In  one  way  it  was  not  wise 
to  start  then,  for  some  of  the  people  of  the  camp  might 
see  us  and  give  the  alarm.  Still  we  had  to  take  some 
chances ;  no  one  had  yet  appeared  from  the  camp  below, 
and  we  hoped  to  get  across  into  the  brush  unobserved. 
Heaping  our  clothes  and  weapons  on  top  of  our  raft,  we 
pushed  out  into  the  stream,  and  all  went  well  until  we 
were  part  way  across ;  there  we  struck  very  swift  water, 
a  low  place  into  which  the  water  from  the  sides  of  the 
river  seemed  to  be  running  and  sinking.  Try  as  we 
would  we  could  not  get  out  of  it,  for  it  was  like  going 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  125 

up  hill  to  push  for  the  far  shore,  or  the  one  from  which 
we  had  started,  and  all  the  time  we  were  drifting  faster 
and  faster  down  toward  the  roar  of  the  rapids,  down 
toward  the  camp  of  strange  people. 

"'Let  us  leave  the  raft,'  said  North,  'and  swim  back 
to  our  shore.' 

"We  tried  to  do  so,  but  we  could  no  more  leave  that 
swift,  sucking,  down-pulling  middle  current  than  we 
had  been  so  many  helpless  dead  leaves  adrift.  One  by 
one  we  turned  back  and  hung  on  to  our  raft. 

"'This  is  our  only  chance,'  said  South.  'We  can 
hang  on  to  this  and  perhaps  pass  the  rapid  and  the 
camp  without  being  seen.' 

"We  now  turned  a  bend  in  the  river,  and  before  us 
saw  a  fearful  thing  that  we  were  rushing  into ;  the  stream 
narrowed  between  two  high  walls  of  rock,  and  the  green 
water  leaped  foaming  along  in  great  waves  and  whirls 
over  and  around  huge  black  rocks. 

"'Hold  hard;  hold  on  with  all  your  strength,'  cried 
South. 

"  I  grabbed  the  smaller  log  harder  than  ever,  but  my 
strength  was  nothing  in  that  place,  nothing.  Suddenly 
we  went  down,  raft  and  all,  down  under  the  crazy,  green, 
bubbling  water;  our  logs  struck  a  rock  and  I  was  pulled 
away  from  them  and  went  whirling  and  rolling  on.  I 
was  pushed  up  to  the  surface,  went  over  the  top  of  a  big 
wave,  and  then  was  again  drawn  under,  down,  down, 
I  knew  not  how  far ;  my  left  foot  caught  in  between  two 
rocks,  the  water  pushed  me,  and  my  leg  broke  just  here 
above  the  ankle.  For  a  little  I  hung  there,  then  the 
water  heaved  back  the  other  way,  pulled  me  loose, 
pushed  me  up,  and  again  I  got  a  few  breaths  of  air. 
Once  more  I  went  down,  this  time  for  so  long  that  I 
was  sure  I  would  never  rise.  I  had  been  praying,  but 


is6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

now  I  stopped;  'it  is  no  use,'  I  said  to  myself,  'I  now 
die.'  But  I  did  roll  up  on  top  again;  I  was  in  smooth 
but  swift  water,  a  boat  was  above  me,  a  short,  stout, 
dark  man  was  leaning  over  the  side.  I  noticed  that  his 
hair  looked  as  if  it  had  never  been  cared  for,  that  his 
face  was  very  wide,  his  mouth  very  large.  I  felt  him 
grasp  my  hair,  and  then  I  died  (fainted). 

"When  I  came  to  life  I  found  that  I  was  in  a  small, 
old  and  torn  elk-skin  lodge.  I  was  lying  on  a  couch,  a 
robe  of  beaver  skins  thrown  over  me.  An  old  gray- 
haired  man  was  putting  sticks  on  my  broken  leg  and 
binding  them,  all  the  time  singing  a  strange  song.  I 
knew  he  was  a  doctor.  The  man  I  had  seen  leaning 
over  the  side  of  the  boat  sat  nearby.  There  were  three 
women  there  also,  one  quite  young  and  good  looking. 
When  I  looked  at  her  she  turned  her  head  away,  but 
the  others  just  sat  and  stared  at  me.  Other  men  came 
in;  they  were  all  short  and  broad,  with  big  muscles; 
they  were  also  very  dark  coloured,  very  homely,  and, 
worst  of  all,  there  was  hair  growing  on  their  lip  and  chin. 
They  looked  much  at  me  as  they  talked,  and  their  talk 
was  very  strange ;  it  seemed  to  come  from  down  in  their 
belly,  and  break  out  of  their  throat  with  the  sound  of 
bark  being  torn  from  a  tree  by  jerks.  I  thought  that 
I  could  never  learn  to  speak  such  a  language  as  that. 
The  old  doctor  hurt  me  considerably  as  he  bandaged  my 
leg,  but  I  kept  very  still.  I  was  wondering  if  any  of  my 
friends  had  come  through  that  terrible  rapid  alive  and 
had  escaped  or  been  picked  up  as  I  was.  I  learned  later 
that  the  water  gods  had  claimed  them,  at  least,  none  of 
them  ever  returned  to  the  Kutenai  country. 

"I  thought  that  these  strangers  were  very  kind  to 
drag  me  from  the  river  and  care  for  me.  I  tried  to  make 
them  understand  how  I  felt,  but  it  was  impossible; 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  127 

they  did  not  understand  the  sign  language,  not  a  bit 
of  it,  which  was  very  strange. 

"After  the  doctor  had  fixed  my  leg  they  gave  me  food, 
some  fish,  a  piece  of  a  large,  fat  kind  of  trout.  Fish,  I 
found,  was  what  they  lived  upon,  spearing  them  in 
great  numbers  at  the  foot  of  the  rapids,  and  drying  them 
for  winter  use.  It  was  a  country  of  game,  elk,  deer, 
black  bear,  yet  these  queer  men  seldom  hunted,  being 
content  to  live  upon  fish  and  berries.  Before  I  got  well 
I  suffered  for  want  of  meat.  I  was  obliged  to  lie  quite 
still  in  the  lodge  for  a  time,  and  then  I  hobbled  out,  a 
little  farther  each  day,  until  I  could  go  to  the  river  and 
watch  the  fishing.  Then  I  found  work  to  do.  I  was 
given  a  pile  of  the  fish,  and  a  knife,  and  shown  how  to 
prepare  them  for  drying.  All  at  once  I  knew  why  I  had 
been  dragged  from  the  river  and  cared  for;  I  was  a  slave. 
I  had  heard  that  there  was  a  people  who  made  captives 
of  their  enemy  instead  of  killing  them,  and  made  them 
work  hard.  I  had  found  them;  I,  a  Kutenai,  broken- 
legged  and  unable  to  escape,  was  the  slave  of  hairy- 
faced  fish-eaters;  I  felt  very  sad.  It  was  the  women 
of  these  people,  the  women  of  the  man  who  had  cap- 
tured me,  that  gave  me  work,  showed  me  what  to  do. 
Not  the  young  woman,  his  daughter,  but  the  others. 
The  girl  never  was  anything  but  kind,  sorry  for  me; 
when  she  could  she  did  what  had  been  given  me  to  do, 
and  when  her  mother  objected,  there  was  a  quarrel, 
out  the  girl  was  never  afraid. 

';<When  my  leg  is  sound,'  I  kept  saying  to  myself, 
'I  will  escape.  I  will  steal  the  weapons  of  this  man  and 
make  my  way  once  more  to  the  Backbone-of-the-world.' 

"But  the  break  healed  slowly,  and  before  I  could 
again  walk  well  my  plan  was  broken.  One  day  every- 
thing was  packed  up,  the  bundles  of  dried  fish,  the 


128  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

lodges,  everything  placed  in  the  boats,  and  we  all  set 
out  down  the  river.  Down  we  went,  on  and  on,  oh,  very 
far,  the  river  ever  widening,  passing  great  black  forests, 
until  at  last  we  came  almost  to  a  great  lake  which  had 
no  other  side,  which  was  nearly  all  the  time  mad  with 
great  waves,  and  lost  in  thick  fog.  It  was  a  dreadful 
place.  There  we  made  camp  with  many  more  of  these 
same  fish-eaters,  and  besides  fish  we  now  ate  the  flesh  of 
water  devils  which  could  swim  faster  than  an  otter.  It 
tasted  very  bad. 

"Now,  little  by  little  I  became  able  to  speak  some 
of  this  hard  language,  to  make  myself  understood. 
After  a  time  I  was  allowed  to  take  a  bow  and  arrows  and 
hunt,  and  I  killed  many  deer,  a  few  black  bears,  some 
elk.  But  I  was  not  happy;  winter  was  coming  on, 
there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  start  for  my  country  until 
spring.  When  I  did  start,  how  was  I,  who  could  not 
manage  a  heavy,  long  boat,  to  get  back  up  this  great 
river,  to  cross  others  that  we  had  passed?  True,  there 
was  this  shore  we  were  camped  upon.  I  could  follow 
it  back  to  the  place  of  the  terrible  rapids  and  cross  away 
above  them,  but  the  route  was  long,  through  deep  for- 
ests, down-timber,  thick  brush.  It  was  very  bad,  but 
I  should  have  to  try  it. 

"It  was  my  dream  that  showed  me  the  way.  One 
night  he  said  to  me:  'Ask  the  girl;  she  likes  you,  will 
help  you.' 

"When  I  awoke  in  the  morning  I  looked  across  the 
lodge  at  her;  she  was  looking  at  me  and  her  eyes  were 
kind;  she  smiled.  It  was  a  good  sign.  I  said  that  I 
would  go  hunting,  and  after  eating  I  picked  up  the 
fish-eater's  weapons  and  went  out.  But  I  did  not  hunt ; 
I  went  back  in  the  timber  a  little  way  and  hid.  She 
would  be  after  wood  some  time  in  the  day,  and  if  alone 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  iaa 

I  could  speak  with  her.  When  I  went  out  I  had  given 
her  a  strong  look,  which  she  seemed  to  understand,  for 
she  came  almost  at  once,  and  seeing  me,  began  picking 
up  a  piece  of  wood  here,  a  piece  there,  but  all  the  time 
coming  nearer,  often  looking  back  toward  camp.  I 
slipped  behind  the  roots  of  an  overturned  tree,  and  she 
soon  came  around  too  and  we  stood  side  by  side,  watch- 
ing through  the  little  roots  as  we  talked.  I  was  afraid 
to  begin;  I  could  talk  but  little  of  her  language,  so  little, 
I  tried  for  the  right  words,  but  they  would  not  come. 
She  looked  up  at  me,  put  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and 
said:  'You  wish  to  go  to  your  people?' 

"'Yes,'  I  told  her.  'Yes,  I  want  to  go,  but  the  big 
river — don't  understand  boat.' 

"She  laughed  a  little,  looked  carefully  to  see  if  any- 
one was  coming,  and  then  said  in  little  words  I  could 
understand:  'I  know  boat — I  take  you — you  be  good 
to  me — I  like  you.' 

"'Yes,'  I  said,  'I  will  be  good  to  you.  I  make  you 
my  woman.  I  give  you  everything,  many  horses,  good 
lodge,  pretty  things  to  wear.' 

"She  laughed  low,  a  happy  laugh,  To-night,  when 
all  sleep,  we  go.' 

"  I  stopped  her.  'It  is  far,  much  snow,  we  must  wait 
until  leaves  come.' 

"She  gave  me  a  little  shake,  and  went  on:  'I  said 
to-night;  I  know  where  to  go,  what  to  do,  you  go  with 
me  to-night;  I  take  everything;  when  ready  I  call  you, 
so.'  She  pulled  my  arm  a  little. 

"I  sneaked  away,  but  soon  walked  around  to  camp, 
said  I  was  sick  and  could  not  hunt.  One  of  the  old 
women  gave  me  some  medicine.  She  was  afraid  her 
slave  would  not  be  able  to  work,  and  hunt,  and  bring 
in  skins.  I  had  to  drink  the  medicine,  and  it  tasted 


very  bad.  I  should  have  told  some  other  lie.  I  thought 
night  would  never  come,  but  when  it  was  time  the  sun 
went  down,  we  had  our  supper  and  lay  down.  The  fire 
went  out,  and  it  was  very  dark  in  the  lodge.  After  a 
while  the  fish-eater  and  his  woman  began  to  snore,  and 
at  last  I  felt  the  little  pull  on  my  arm,  for  which  I  had 
been  waiting.  I  arose  very  slowly,  picked  up  the  bow 
and  arrows  and  the  knife,  which  I  had  laid  carelessly 
by  my  couch  when  I  came  in  from  hunting,  and  stole 
noiselessly  out  of  the  lodge.  The  girl  took  my  hand  and 
led  me  down  to  the  river,  to  a  small  boat  which  belonged 
to  another  family.  Already  she  had  placed  in  it  some 
robes,  some  little  food,  a  skin  of  good  water,  for  the 
water  of  that  dreadful  lake  was  salt,  and  every  little 
while  it  fought  with  the  great  river  and  beat  back  its 
water  from  the  snows  and  springs.  We  got  into  the 
boat,  I  in  front,  the  girl  behind,  pushed  off  without 
making  the  least  sound,  and  she  paddled  us  out  into  the 
darkness  and  stillness  of  the  wide  deep  stream.  After 
awhile  she  gave  me  a  paddle,  and  I  pawed  the  water  with 
it,  making  much  noise,  but  noise  no  longer  mattered. 
On  we  went,  and  on,  speaking  no  word,  until  day  began 
to  break;  then  we  went  ashore  at  a  place  where  there 
were  many  small  rocks,  with  which  we  loaded  the  boat 
until  it  sank  out  of  sight.  Then  we  went  into  the  deep 
timber  and  felt  that  we  were  safe;  any  pursuers  could 
neither  see  our  boat  nor  us,  nor  even  suspect  that  we 
might  be  hiding  there. 

"Thus  for  three  nights  we  went  up  that  great  river, 
and  then  turned  into  a  small  one  flowing  from  the  north. 
It  was  a  beautiful  stream,  clear  and  quite  swift,  and 
everywhere  its  shores  were  tracked  with  game.  Half  a 
day  we  travelled  up  it,  then  cached  our  boat  and  walked 
up  a  little  narrow  stream  into  high  hills.  There  I  killec' 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  131 

a  deer,  my  woman  made  a  little  lodge  of  poles  and  brush. 
We  built  a  small  fire  and  feasted.  We  were  in  a  safe 
place  now.  Here  we  were  to  stay  until  spring.  I  would 
hunt  and  get  many  skins,  she  would  build  a  good  lodge. 
That  is  what  my  woman  said.  And  I,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  moons,  I  was  happy.  I  had  some  one  to  care 
for,  one  who  cared  for  me.  When  summer  came  we 
would  travel  together  to  my  people  and  live  happily. 
Oh,  yes,  I  was  happy;  I  would  sing  all  day,  except  when 
I  was  hunting.  At  night  we  used  to  sit  by  our  little  fire 
and  feast,  and  I  would  teach  her  my  language,  which 
she  quickly  learned,  and  I  would  tell  her  about  my  people 
and  my  country,  the  plains,  the  mountains,  and  the 
game. 

"I  was  no  longer  impatient  for  summer  to  come;  the 
days  went  fast  and  every  one  of  them  was  a  happy  day. 
But  soon  the  leaves  began  to  show  on  the  willows,  the 
grass  to  grow,  and  one  evening  we  got  out  our  boat  and 
floated  down  into  the  big  river,  travelling  up  it  by  night 
until  we  came  to  the  terrible  rapids.  There  we  sunk 
our  boat,  that  none  might  know  we  had  passed  that  way, 
and  started  on  the  long  trail  over  which  I  had  come  with 
my  lost  friends.  The  wide  forest  did  not  now  seem  so 
gloomy,  nor  the  way  so  long.  At  last  we  came  to  the 
lake  of  the  Pend  d'Oreilles.  'From  here  on, '  I  said  'we 
will  ride;  I  am  going  to  take  some  horses  from  these 
people.' 

"My  little  woman  objected  to  this,  but  I  would  have 
my  way.  She  was  tired  out  from  our  long  walk,  more 
tired  I  could  see  every  day.  I  felt  that  I  must  take  at 
least  one  horse  for  her.  I  could  see  the  camp  and  plenty 
of  horses  near  it.  After  the  people  slept,  although  it 
was  bright  moonlight,  I  went  right  in  among  the  lodges, 
stole  a  woman's  saddle,  and  cut  out  two  of  the  best  horses 


i3a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

I  could  find  and  led  them  to  where  I  had  left  my  woman. 
She  was  terribly  scared,  for  she  had  never  ridden  a  horse. 
I  saddled  one,  got  on  him,  and  rode  around  a  little;  he 
was  gentle.  So  I  fixed  the  saddle,  put  her  up  in  it, 
shortened  the  stirrup  straps,  and  showed  her  how  to 
hang  to  the  saddle.  Then  I  mounted  the  other  horse, 
and  leading  hers,  we  started  over  the  trail  I  knew  so 
well. 

"We  had  not  gone  very  far  when  it  happened.  The 
little  woman  cried  out,  her  horse  broke  from  me  and 
began  bucking  around.  By  the  time  I  had  run  back 
there  she  was  dead.  The  saddle  cinch  had  parted,  she 
had  fallen,  her  horse  had  kicked  or  trampled  her. 

"At  first  I  could  not  believe  it.  I  took  her  in  my  arms, 
called  to  her,  felt  her  all  over,  and  then  at  last  I  found  the 
place;  the  top  of  her  head  was  crushed.  I  must  have 
gone  crazy  for  a  time.  I  jumped  up  and  killed  her  horse ; 
and  then  killed  mine.  I  prayed  to  her  gods  and  to  mine, 
to  bring  her  to  life,  but  it  was  no  use,  no  use.  Morning 
came.  I  carried  her  to  a  place  a  little  way  off  the  trail  and 
buried  her  as  best  I  could.  I  looked  back  to  the  west, 
toward  the  country  where  I  had  suffered  so,  had  lost  my 
companions,  been  made  a  slave,  had  found  a  loving 
woman  only  to  lose  her,  and  I  cried  in  anger  and  sorrow ; 
then,  alone,  I  tore  myself  away  from  where  she  lay  and 
started  once  more  on  the  trail  to  my  people.  I  am  an 
old  man  now,  but  many  winters  have  not  buried  my 
sorrow.  I  still  mourn  for  her,  and  I  shall  do  so  as  long 
as  I  live." 

Nat-ah'-ki  often  reverted  to  this  story  of  the  old  man. 
"  Kyai,-yo! "  she  would  exclaim.  "  How  poor,  how  sad." 

"Who— what?"  I  would  ask. 

"Why,  the  Kutenai's  young  woman,  of  course.  Only 
think,  to  die  just  as  she  had  found  happiness;  never  to 


THE  KUTENAI'S  STORY  133 

see  again  the  sunshine,  and  the  mountains,  and  these 
beautiful  plains." 

"She  never  saw  these  plains,"  I  said  once,  when  we 
were  talking  about  the  story.  "Hers  was  a  country  of 
forests  and  great  rivers,  of  rains  and  fogs." 

Nat-ah'-ki  shivered.  "I  do  not  wish  to  see  that 
country!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  hate  the  rain;  always 
I  want  to  live  on  these  sunshine  plains.  How  good  Old 
Man*  was  to  give  us  this  rich  country." 

*The  Blackfoot  Creator,  the  Sun. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    GREAT    RACB 

THE  visit  of  the  Kutenais  to  our  people  wound  up  as 
several  previous  visits  had  done,  in  a  fine  row, 
which  for  a  time  threatened  to  be  serious.  It  began  also 
as  another  one  had,  over  a  horse  race.  The  Kutenais 
owned  a  large,  clean-limbed  and  very  swift  black  mare 
which,  with  one  horse  after  another,  the  Piegans  had 
endeavoured  to  beat.  Race  after  race  had  been  run  and 
each  time  the  black  had  been  victorious.  The  Piegans 
had  lost  heavily — guns,  horses,  blankets,  finery  of  all 
descriptions — and  were  getting  desperate.  They 
claimed,  for  one  thing,  that  the  winners  had  managed 
secretly  to  rub  something  on  their  several  horses  which 
reduced  the  speed  of  the  animals.  In  their  extremity  it 
was  decided  to  send  over  to  the  Bloods  for  a  certain 
horse  which  was  known  to  be  very  fast,  and  to  guard  him 
night  and  day  until  the  race  was  run.  After  a  time  the 
deputation  sent  to  the  Bloods  returned  with  the  horse, 
which  was  certainly  a  fine  animal,  a  well-blooded  Ameri- 
can bay  which  had  undoubtedly  been  taken  from  some 
unfortunate  traveller  on  the  Overland  trail  far  away  to 
the  south.  He  was  to  have  a  rest  of  four  days,  and  then 
the  great  race  was  to  be  run  in  which  the  Piegans  ex- 
pected to  recoup  their  losses.  During  this  time  there  is 
no  question  but  that  the  horse  was  guarded.  By  day 
there  were  half  a  dozen  young  men  with  him  out  on  the 
plain,  where  he  grazed  upon  the  richest  grass  that  could 


THE  GREAT  RACE  135 

be  found,  and  at  night  he  was  fairly  surrounded  by 
interested  watchers. 

At  last  the  great  day  came,  and  everyone  in  both 
camps,  even  the  women  and  children,  went  out  to  the 
place  where  the  race  was  to  be  run — a  level  stretch 
about  500  yards  long.  The  betting  was  furious,  and 
such  a  lot  of  stuff  as  was  set  out  here  and  there  on  the 
plain  I  never  saw  before  nor  since.  Specimens  of  every- 
thing the  two  tribes  had  for  use  or  adornment  were  to  be 
found  in  one  or  another  of  the  heaps,  and  the  many 
horses  which  had  been  staked  upon  the  result  were  also 
there,  their  ropes  held  by  some  non-betting  youth  or  boy. 
Even  the  women  were  betting;  here  you  would  see  a 
brass  kettle  wagered  against  a  beaded  dress,  there  a 
parfleche  of  dried  buffalo  meat  against  a  tanned  elkskin, 
a  yard  of  red  cloth  against  a  couple  of  copper  bracelets. 
I  stood  with  a  crowd  of  others  at  the  finishing  point, 
where  a  furrow  had  been  scraped  across  the  dusty 
course.  It  was  to  be  a  standing  start;  we  could  see  the 
two  youthful  riders,  naked  except  for  the  inevitable 
breech-clout,  guide  their  excited  and  prancing  mounts 
up  to  the  starting  point,  some  500  yards  distant.  They 
started;  the  spectators  lining  the  course  began  to  shout, 
encouraging  the  riders  to  do  their  utmost,  an  increasing 
confusion  and  clamour  of  Blackfoot  and  Kutenai  ex- 
clamations, in  which  the  shrill  cries  of  the  women  played 
no  unimportant  part.  We  at  the  post  could  not  tell 
which  of  the  horses  was  ahead,  as  they  came  toward  us 
with  quick,  long  leaps;  they  seemed  to  be  running  side 
by  side.  Now,  as  they  neared  the  goal,  a  sudden  silence 
fell  upon  the  crowd.  Everyone  held  his  breath;  we 
could  hear  the  broad  thongs  of  the  riders'  rapidly  plied 
quirts  thwack  against  the  straining  sides  of  the  racers. 
And  now  here  they  were;  a  few  leaps  more  and  they 


i36  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

crossed  the  furrow  almost  neck  and  neck,  the  Kutenai 
horse,  I  thought,  a  few  inches  in  the  lead.  Immediately 
a  great  clamour  of  tongues  arose  and  there  was  a  general 
rush  for  the  stakes. 

"We  win!"  the  Piegans  shouted,  "We  win!"  and  I 
presume  that  is  what  the  Kutenais  were  saying  in  their 
unintelligible  and  angry  words.  What  a  scene  ensued. 
Men  seized  upon  the  stakes  and  pulled  and  pushed  each 
other  for  the  possession  of  them.  A  Kutenai  in  the 
midst  of  a  struggling  group  pulled  an  ancient  flint-lock 
pistol  and  aimed  it  at  his  opponent,  but  someone  knocked 
it  upward  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  the  bullet  went  wide 
of  its  mark.  At  the  sound  of  the  shot  the  women  fled 
in  terror  to  their  several  lodges,  dragging  their  crying 
children  after  them.  The  hot-headed  Piegan  youth  and 
men  began  to  call  out  to  each  other:  "Get  your  wea- 
pons! Let's  kill  off  these  Kutenai  cheats." 

There  was  no  more  struggling  over  the  things  which 
had  been  staked  upon  the  result  of  the  race.  Each  bettor 
seemed  to  take  that  which  was  his  without  protest  and 
hurry  away  to  his  lodge.  In  a  moment  or  two 
the  race  ground  was  deserted  save  by  the  Kutenai 
and  Piegan  chiefs,  a  few  of  their  leading  men,  Nat- 
ah'-ki  and  I.  The  latter  was  grasping  my  arm  and 
there  was  real  terror  in  her  eyes  as  she  begged  me  go 
with  her  at  once. 

"There  is  going  to  be  a  big  fight;  let  us  saddle  our 
horses  and  ride  away  from  it,"  she  said.  "Come." 

"The  fight  will  not  concern  me,"  I  told  her.  "I  am 
a  white  man." 

"Yes,"  she  cried,  "you  are  a  white  man,  and  you  are 
also  a  Piegan ;  the  Kutenais  will  shoot  at  you  as  quickly 
as  at  anyone  else." 

I  motioned  her  to  keep  silent,  for  I  wanted  to  hear 


THE  GREAT  RACE  137 

what  was  being  decided  upon  by  the  chiefs.  Big  Lake 
sent  his  camp-crier  home. 

"Tell  them,"  he  said,  "that  these  are  my  words:  I 
go  now  to  the  camp  of  my  good  friend  Back-in-sight; 
whoever  would  fight  the  Kutenais  must  fight  me  and 
these  here  with  me." 

The  camp-crier  hurried  away  and  then  he  turned  to  me. 
' '  Come, ' '  he  said, ' '  you  also  are  for  peace ;  come  with  us. ' ' 

I  went  with  them  over  to  the  Kutenai  camp.  Nat- 
ah'-ki,  sorely  troubled,  closely  following.  We  had 
barely  arrived  there  when  we  saw  an  ever-increasing 
throng  of  shouting  and  excited  riders  bearing  down  upon 
us  from  the  other  camp. 

"Loan  me  a  gun,"  said  Big  Lake,  peremptorily. 
"Some  one  loan  me  a  gun." 

When  it  was  handed  him  he  stepped  out  in  front  of 
us  and  there  was  a  look  of  grim  determination  on  his 
fine  old  face,  an  angry  light  in  his  eyes.  Behind  us,  with 
rustle  of  lodge-skin  and  rattle  of  poles,  the  lodges  were 
being  hurriedly  taken  down,  the  baggage  packed  by 
anxious  and  much-scared  women,  and  near  us  the 
Kutenai  men  were  gathering,  preparing  to  defend  them- 
selves and  theirs.  They  were  no  match  for  the  Piegans 
they  well  knew ;  they  were  far  outnumbered ;  but  one  had 
only  to  look  at  their  attitude  of  preparedness,  their  steady 
eyes  and  compressed  lips,  to  be  satisfied  that  they  would 
do  their  best. 

A  young  warrior  named  Little  Deer  was  at  the  head  of 
the  Piegans  as  they  came  riding  fast  toward  us.  I  had 
a  strong  dislike  to  him,  for  I  felt  that  he  hated  me.  I 
had  serious  trouble  with  him  later.  He  had  a  mean, 
cruel  face,  pitiless  and  treacherous,  with  shifty  eyes. 
The  most  of  this  angry  crowd  of  our  people,  we  learned 
later,  had  not  heard  the  camp-crier  in  the  excitement 


i38  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

and  confusion  or  had  left  before  he  arrived  among  them, 
and  here  they  were,  determined  to  deal  unmercifully 
with  those  whom  they  now  considered  their  enemies. 
Big  Lake  hastened  out  to  meet  them,  shouting  to  them, 
and  making  the  sign  for  them  to  stop.  But  as  they  paid 
no  heed  to  him  he  ran  on  still  farther,  and  levelling  his 
gun  at  Little  Deer,  exclaimed:  "If  you  don't  stop  I  will 
shoot." 

The  latter  unwillingly  checked  his  horse  and  said: 
"Why  do  you  stop  me?  These  Kutenai  dogs  have 
robbed  us,  cheated;  we  are  going  to  have  revenge." 

He  started  to  go  on,  calling  out  to  his  followers,  and 
again  Big  Lake  raised  his  gun:  "Aim  then  at  me," 
he  cried,  "I  am  now  a  Kutenai.  Aim,  shoot;  I  give  you 
a  chance." 

Little  Deer  did  not  raise  his  gun;  he  just  sat  there 
on  his  horse  and  glared  at  the  chief,  then  turned  in  his 
saddle  and  looking  at  the  crowd  which  had  ridden  up 
behind  him,  called  upon  them  to  follow  him.  But  the 
other  Piegan  leaders  were  now  among  them,  by  turns 
threatening,  and  coaxing  them  to  return  to  their  camp. 
None  of  them  came  forward;  on  the  other  hand,  some 
started  back  toward  their  lodges.  Little  Deer  worked 
himself  into  a  fine  rage,  alternately  pointing  at  them  and 
at  the  Kutenais,  calling  them  all  the  evil  names  he 
could  think  of.  But  in  spite  of  his  anger  and  defiance 
he  made  no  attempt  to  advance ;  the  chief's  pointed 
gun,  the  steady  cold,  clear  stare  of  his  eyes  wholly  dis- 
concerted him.  Muttering  something  or  other  in  an 
unintelligible  tone,  he  finally  turned  his  horse  and  mood- 
ily rode  back  to  camp  in  the  wake  of  those  whom  but  a 
few  moments  before  he  had  so  eagerly  led.  The  chiefs 
gave  a  long  sigh  of  relief;  so  did  I,  so  did  Nat-ah'-ki, 
again  close  by  my  side. 


THE  GREAT  RACE  139 

"What  hard  heads  these  young  men  have,"  Big 
Lake  remarked.  "How  difficult  it  is  to  manage  them." 

"You  speak  truth,"  said  Back-in-sight.  "Were  it 
not  for  you,  your  strong  words,  many  dead  would  now 
be  lying  on  this  plain.  We  go  now  back  to  the  moun- 
tains, it  may  be  long  ere  we  meet  again." 

"Yes,"  agreed  the  Piegan,  "it  is  best  that  we  part. 
But  the  anger  of  our  young  men  will  soon  die  away. 
Next  summer,  somewhere  hereabouts,  let  us  meet 
again." 

This  was  agreed  upon,  and  with  final  handshakes  all 
around,  we  left  them.  Arrived  at  our  own  camp,  Big 
Lake  gave  orders  that  camp  be  struck  at  once,  and  the 
lodges  began  to  come  down  in  a  hurry.  He  also  in- 
structed the  Ai-in'-ai-kiks — seizers,  holders — a  band  of  the 
All  Friends'  Society  which  were,  as  one  may  say,  police, 
to  allow  none  of  the  young  men  to  leave  us  under  any 
pretext  whatever.  He  feared  that  if  they  did  go  from 
us  they  would  yet  attack  the  Kutenais,  who  were  al- 
ready stringing  out  in  a  long  column,  westward  over 
the  rolling  plain.  A  little  later  we  too  pulled  out, 
heading  south  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  we 
went  into  camp  on  the  Marias  at  the  lower  end  of  Medi- 
cine Rock  bottom,  right  opposite  the  spot  where, 
later,  Fort  Conrad  was  built,  and  where  to-day  the 
Great  Falls  &  Canada  Railroad  crosses  the  stream. 

At  the  extreme  lower  end  of  this  bottom,  about  100 
yards  from  the  river,  and  near  the  foot  of  the  rising 
hill,  unless  the  railroad  vandals  have  taken  them  for 
construction  work,  lies  a  circle  of  large  boulders  partially 
embedded  in  the  soil.  The  circle  is  about  sixty-five 
feet  in  diameter;  some  of  the  boulders  will  weigh  at 
least  a  ton.  Who  placed  them  there,  and  why,  I  could 
never  learn.  The  Blackfeet  have  no  tradition 


i4o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

concerning  them,  saying  merely  that  'twas  "done  by  the 
ancient  ones,"  ahk'-kai-tup-pi.  This,  by  the  way,  is  an 
interesting  word;  as  it  stands,  with  the  accent  on  the 
first  syllable,  its  exact  meaning  is  long-ago-people;  but 
if  the  second  instead  of  the  first  syllable  is  accented  it 
means  many  people.  However,  in  the  first  instance 
the  word  for  time,  sum-oh',  is  entirely  omitted,  most 
likely  for  the  sake  of  euphony. 

But  if  the  Blackfeet  know  nothing  of  the  boulder 
circle,  they  have  much  to  say  regarding  the  medicine 
rock.  This  lies  by  the  side  of  the  old  travois  trail  about 
three  miles  above,  near  the  top  of  the  hill  at  the  extreme 
upper  end  of  the  bottom.  In  the  "Blackfoot  Lodge 
Tales"  is  given  the  story  of  a  rock,  which,  to  avenge  an 
insult,  chased  Old  Man,  and  but  for  the  timely  interfer- 
ence of  a  bull  bat  would  have  crushed  him  flat.  To  a 
certain  extent  the  Blackfeet  are  Pantheists,  attributing 
life  to,  and  worshipping  many  inanimate  objects.  This 
rock  is  one  of  several  to  which  they  sacrifice  and  pray, 
another  one  lying  on  a  hill  of  the  Two  Medicine  River, 
near  the  old  Marias  River — Belly  River  trail.  It  is  a 
red  mottled  quartz — the  red  itself  a  "medicine"  or 
sacred  colour — a  boulder  of  several  tons'  weight  lying 
on  a  very  steep  sandy  slope  exposed  to  the  southwest 
winds.  The  wind  gradually  moving  the  sand  under- 
mines the  rock,  and  as  the  fine  sand  and  soil  is  blown 
away  it  settles  little  by  little,  moving  farther  and  farther 
down  the  hill.  But  although  the  Blackfeet  are  well 
aware  of  the  cause  of  this  movement,  to  them  the  rock 
is  a  sacred  object.  Passing  it,  they  stop  a  moment  and 
place  on  it  a  bracelet,  a  necklace,  some  beads  or  other 
offering,  and  beg  it  to  take  pity  on  them,  to  guard  them 
from  all  evil  things  and  grant  them  long  life  and  happi- 
ness. The  last  time  I  passed  this  rock  there  was  at 


THE  GREAT  RACE  141 

least  a  bushel  of  various  small  offerings  lying  upon,  or 
around  it.  And  there  most  likely  they  are  to  this  day 
unless  the  white  settlers  have  picked  them  up.  Years 
after  I  last  rode  by  the  rock,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  crossed 
the  bottom  on  a  train  of  the  new  railway.  We  sat  out 
on  the  platform  of  the  rear  sleeper,  whence  we  could  get 
a  good  view  of  the  country.  Oh,  the  dreariness  and 
desolation  of  it  all.  Gone  were  the  rich  grasses,  even 
the  sages,  which  once  grew  thick  on  flat  and  hillside. 
Gone,  too,  were  the  grand  old  cottonwoods,  the  clusters 
of  willow,  and  cherry,  and  sarvis  berry  thickets  which 
bordered  the  river.  Nat-ah'-ki  silently  pressed  my  hand, 
and  I  saw  tears  in  her  eyes.  I  said  nothing,  asked  no 
question;  well  I  knew  of  what  she  was  thinking,  and  I 
came  near  crying  too.  What  a — to  us — terrible  change 
had  taken  place ;  gone  were  our  friends,  extinct  the  herds 
of  game;  even  the  face  of  the  country  was  changed. 
Do  vou  wonder  that  we  felt  sad? 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    SNAKE    WOMAN 

AT  THE  lower  end  of  the  bottom  opposite  that  of 
the  Medicine  Rock,  the  Dry  Fork  of  the  Marias 
joins  the  greater  stream.  At  times  in  spring  it  is  a  rag- 
ing, muddy  torrent,  but  for  the  larger  part  of  the  year  is 
a  shallow,  sometimes  dry,  stream,  the  water  stand- 
ing in  deep  holes  or  where  it  has  been  backed  up 
by  the  industrious  beaver. — Why,  why  do  I  persist  in 
writing  in  the  present  tense  ?  As  if  there  were  any  beaver 
there  now!  But  I'll  not  change  the  line — The  day  after 
we  went  into  camp  on  the  river,  there  was  to  be  a  buffalo 
run  out  on  the  flat  beyond  the  Medicine  Rock,  where  an 
immense  herd  of  buffalo  had  been  located.  Weasel 
Tail  and  I,  however,  chose  to  go  up  the  Dry  Fork  on  dis- 
covery. In  our  lodges  were  many  a  parfleche  of  dried 
meat;  we  wanted  no  summer  skins  of  the  buffalo,  and, 
of  course,  we  could  kill  what  fresh  meat  was  needed  at 
almost  any  time  and  place.  We  crossed  the  river  and 
rode  through  the  bottom,  then  followed  a  broad,  deep 
game  trail  running  up  the  rather  narrow  valley  of  the 
Dry  Fork,  crossing  and  recrossing  the  stream.  We 
passed  a  great  many  beaver  dams  and  saw  several  of 
the  animals  swimming  around  in  their  ponds.  Here 
and  there  were  narrow  strips  of  willow  along  the  bank  out 
of  which  an  occasional  white-tail  deer  would  break  for 
the  hills,  scared  by  our  approach.  There  were  solitary 
cottonwoods,  stunted,  many  of  them  dead,  their  trunks 
worn  quite  smooth  by  the  buffalo  rubbing  against 

142 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN  143 

them.  Rattlesnakes  were  numerous;  every  little  while 
we  would  be  startled  by  one  suddenly  sounding  his 
warning  near  the  trail,  and  we  killed  all  we  saw  save  one 
or  two  which  managed  to  escape  into  nearby  holes.  As 
we  ascended  the  valley,  antelope  became  more  and  more 
numerous.  The  plain  lying  between  the  Dry  Fork 
and  the  next  water  to  the  south,  Pend  d'Oreille  coulee, 
was  one  of  their  favourite  feeding  grounds  in  that  part 
of  the  country.  If  possible,  when  we  saw  a  herd  of 
antelope  or  buffalo  ahead,  we  would  ride  up  a  coule'e  on 
to  the  plain  and  go  around  them,  for  we  liked  not  to 
have  the  game  stampeding  from  us,  betraying  our  pres- 
ence and  probable  route  to  any  chance  enemy  there- 
abouts. 

It  was  at  least  eight  or  nine  o'clock  when  we  left 
camp,  long  after  the  departure  of  the  buffalo  runners, 
and  by  noontime  we  were  well  up  the  Dry  Fork,  twelve 
or  fourteen  miles  from  camp.  Off  to  our  right  was  a 
long  ridge  running  east  and  west,  the  nearer  point  of  it 
broken  by  sandstone  cliffs.  Thither  we  wended  our 
way,  riding  up  a  coulee,  which  headed  there.  Arrived 
at  the  foot  of  the  ridge  we  picketed  our  horses  and  climb- 
ing up,  sat  down  on  its  crest  to  get  a  view  of  the  country. 
I  had  brought  some  broiled  antelope  ribs,  and,  opening 
the  little  bag,  laid  them  upon  a  convenient  rock.  "Take 
part  of  them,"  I  said. 

Weasel  Tail  shook  his  head.  "What,"  I  asked, 
"you  will  not  eat?  Take  half;  I  brought  them  for  you." 

"It  is  not  wise,"  he  replied,  "to  eat  when  out  on  dis- 
covery, on  the  hunt,  or  when  travelling  anywhere  away 
from  camp.  You  should  eat  plenty  after  you  arise  in 
the  morning,  eat  very  much.  Then  you  saddle  up  and 
strike  out.  You  feel  strong;  you  ride,  and  ride,  and 
ride.  You  may  be  hunting,  you  are  unlucky  perhaps, 


144  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

but  you  are  not  discouraged;  you  go  on,  and  on,  with 
strong  faith  that  the  luck  will  change,  that  you  will  soon 
find  a  band  of  antelope  or  buffalo,  or  game  of  some  kind. 
The  sun  mounts  up,  and  up,  arrives  at  the  middle, 
starts  downward  to  his  lodge  beyond  the  edge  (edge  of 
the  world).  You  have  food  tied  to  your  saddle,  and 
you  say  to  yourself,  'I  am  hungry;  I  will  stop  and 
eat.' 

"On  the  crest  of  some  ridge  or  butte  you  dismount, 
and,  half  lying  on  the  restful  ground,  you  begin  to  eat, 
meanwhile  your  clear,  strong  eyes  search  plain  and  val- 
ley or  brush  and  mountainside  for  life  of  some  kind. 
You  are  very  hungry,  of  course;  the  food  tastes  good 
in  your  mouth,  your  stomach  keeps  crying  for  its  fill, 
and  you  keep  on  eating  until  the  last  morsel  has  dis- 
appeared. Then  Hai-ya!  what  a  change  comes  over 
you!  Your  flesh  suddenly  becomes  soft,  your  eyes  no 
longer  seek  to  pierce  the  far  distance,  the  lids  close  upon 
them.  The  ground  feels  so  good;  it  is  a  soft  couch. 
You  become  sleepy;  it  is  only  by  great  effort  that  you 
keep  awake.  You  lie  there  and  the  sun  goes  on,  and  on, 
down  toward  his  lodge.  You  know  that  you  ought  to 
arise,  that  you  ought  to  mount  and  ride  until  you  can 
see  what  is  beyond  that  high,  long  ridge,  but  the  food 
has  done  its  work  and  you  lie  to  yourself,  saying:  'Oh, 
I  don't  believe  that  I  would  find  any  game  over  there; 
I'll  rest  here  for  a  time,  and  then  start  homeward.  I 
am  sure  to  kill  something  on  the  back  trail.'  So  you 
recline  there,  as  lazy  and  sleepy  as  a  full-gorged  bear, 
and  toward  evening  you  arise  and  go  homeward,  finding 
no  game  whatever  by  the  way.  You  arrive  at  your 
lodge,  the  people  see  that  you  bring  neither  meat  nor 
skins.  Your  women  quietly  unsaddle  your  horse;  you 
go  inside  and  sit  down  upon  your  couch,  much  ashamed 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN  145 

and  begin  to  lie,  telling  how  very  far  you  have  ridden, 
how  barren  the  country  is,  and  how  you  wonder  where 
all  the  game  can  be. 

"No,  friend,  no  ribs  for  me.  You  eat,  if  you  will. 
Loan  me  your  glass  and  I  will  have  a  look  at  the  country." 

What  Weasel  Tail  said  was  all  very  true.  Had  I 
not  time  and  again  experienced  the  lassitude,  the  sleep- 
iness caused  by  my  midday  lunch?  I  resolved  never 
again  to  take  food  with  me  when  going  for  a  day's  ride. 
But  this  time  need  not  count.  I  ate  most  of  the  ribs, 
joined  my  friend  in  a  smoke,  and  fell  asleep. 

Weasel  Tail  poked  me  in  the  ribs  several  times  be- 
fore he  succeeded  in  awakening  me.  I  sat  up  and  rubbed 
my  eyes.  My  throat  felt  dry ;  there  was  a  fuzzy  taste 
in  my  mouth  all  caused  by  my  midday  lunch  and  nap. 
I  noticed  that  the  sun  was  midway  down  toward  the 
distant  blue  peaks  of  the  Rockies.  I  had  slept  long. 
My  friend  was  looking  steadily  through  the  glass  at 
something  to  the  westward  of  us  and  muttering  to  him- 
self. "What  do  you  see?"  I  asked,  yawning  lazily, 
reaching  for  his  pipe  and  tobacco  pouch. 

"It  does  not  seem  possible,"  he  replied,  "that  I  see 
that  which  I  see;  yet,  I  am  sure  neither  my  eyes  nor  this 
glass  deceive.  I  see  a  woman;  a  lone  woman,  a  woman 
on  foot  walking  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge  yonder  and 
coming  straight  toward  us. 

"Let  me  look,"  I  exclaimed,  dropping  the  pipe  and 
taking  the  glass.  "Are  you  sure  that  you  are  awake?" 

"See  for  yourself,"  he  replied.  "She  is  on  the  third 
rise  from  here." 

I  brought  the  glass  to  bear  on  the  slope  indicated, 
and,  sure  enough,  there  was  a  woman  striding  easily 
down  the  grassy  incline.  She  stopped,  turned,  and, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  looked  away  to  the  south, 


i46  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

then  to  the  north,  and  lastly  back  whence  she  had  come. 
I  noticed  that  she  carried  a  small  pack  on  her  back,  that 
she  stood  erect,  and  was  of  slender  figure.  A  young  woman 
undoubtedly.  But  why,  why  was  she  there,  and  afoot 
on  that  great  plain  whose  vastness  and  silence  must  be 
appalling  to  one  so  alone  and  so  defenceless. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this?"     I  asked. 

"I  don't  think  anything,"  Weasel  Tail  replied.  "It 
is  useless  to  try  to  account  for  so  strange  a  thing.  She 
comes  this  way;  we  will  meet,  and  she  will  tell  us  the 
reason  of  it  all." 

The  woman  passed  out  of  sight  into  the  hollow  back 
of  the  second  rise  of  the  ridge,  but  soon  appeared  on  its 
crest  and  kept  on  down  into  the  next  low  place.  When 
she  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  slope  on  which  we  sat,  she 
saw  us  at  once,  stopped  and  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and 
then  came  on  with  her  natural,  easy,  graceful  stride.  I 
am  afraid  that  we  both  rudely  and  coldly  stared  at  her 
but  there  was  neither  fear  nor  diffidence  in  her  manner, 
as  she  walked  steadily  up  to  us.  My  first  impression  was 
that  she  had  beautiful  eyes;  large,  clear,  kindly,  honest 
eyes,  and  my  next  was  that  her  face  was  exceedingly 
comely,  her  long  hair  glossy  and  neatly  braided,  her 
figure  all  that  one  expects  a  woman's  form  to  be.  She 
came  on,  quite  up  to  us,  and  said :  ' '  How  ? " 

"How,  how?"  we  answered. 

She  unslung  her  pack,  sat  down,  and  began  to  talk  in  a 
language  unintelligible  to  us.  By  signs  we  interrupted 
and  said  that  we  did  not  understand  her  talk. 

"  She  is  a  Snake  woman,"  said  Weasel  Tail.  "  By  the 
cut  and  pattern  of  her  moccasins  I  know  that  she  is  one 
of  that  tribe." 

Who  was  he,  I  wonder,  of  what  tribe  and  time,  who 
conceived  the  idea  of  the  sign  language,  by  means  of 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN  147 

which  all  the  tribes  of  the  plains  from  the  Saskatchewan 
to  Mexico  are  able  to  converse  with  each  other  and  tell 
all  that  their  tongues  may  not  utter.  Here  were  we, 
unable  to  understand  one  word  of  this  woman's  language, 
yet  by  means  of  this  wonderful  invention  of  some  ancient 
one,  language  mattered  not. 

"Who  are  you?"  Weasel  Tail  asked,  "and  whence 
come  you?" 

"  I  am  a  Snake,"  the  woman  signed,  "  and  I  come  from 
the  camp  of  my  people  far  to  the  south."  She  paused, 
and  we  signified  that  we  understood.  For  a  moment  or 
two  she  sat  thinking,  brow  wrinkled,  lips  pursed,  and  then 
continued: 

"Three  winters  ago  I  became  Two  Bears'  woman. 
He  was  very  handsome,  very  brave,  kind-hearted.  I 
loved  him,  he  loved  me;  we  were  happy."  Again  she 
paused,  and  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  She  brushed 
them  away  repeatedly,  and  with  much  effort  resumed 
her  story:  "  We  were  very  happy  for  he  never  got  angry ; 
no  one  ever  heard  cross  words  in  our  lodge.  It  was  a 
>odge  of  feasts,  and  song,  and  laughter.  Daily  we  prayed 
to  the  Sun,  asking  him  to  continue  our  happiness,  to  let 
us  live  long. 

"It  was  three  moons  ago,  two  before  this  one  which 
is  almost  ended.  Winter  had  gone,  the  grass  and  leaves 
were  coming  out.  I  awoke  one  morning  and  found  that 
I  was  alone  in  the  lodge.  My  chief  had  arisen  while  I 
slept  and  gone  out;  he  had  taken  his  gun,  his  saddle  and 
rope,  so  I  knew  that  he  had  started  on  a  hunt.  I  was 
glad.  'He  will  bring  home  meat,'  I  said,  'fat  meat  of 
some  kind,  and  we  will  give  a  feast.'  I  gathered  wood, 
I  got  water,  and  then  I  sat  down  to  await  his  return.  All 
day  I  sat  in  the  lodge  waiting  for  him,  sewing  moccasins, 
listening  for  the  footfalls  of  his  hunting  horse.  The 


i48  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

sun  went  down,  and  I  built  a  good  fire.  'He  will  come 
soon  now,'  I  said. 

"  But  no,  he  did  not  come,  and  I  began  to  feel  uneasy. 
Far  into  the  night  I  sat  waiting,  and  fear  pressed  harder 
and  harder  on  my  heart.  Soon  the  people  of  the  village 
went  to  bed.  I  arose  and  went  to  my  father's  lodge, 
but  I  did  not  sleep. 

"When  morning  came  the  men  rode  out  to  look  for 
my  chief;  all  day  they  hunted  through  the  little  prairies, 
through  the  forests,  along  the  river,  but  they  did  not  find 
him,  nor  any  signs  of  him,  nor  of  his  horse.  For  three 
days  they  rode  the  country  in  all  directions,  and  then 
gave  up.  'He  is  dead,'  they  said;  'he  has  drowned,  or  a 
bear  or  some  enemy  has  killed  him.  It  must  have  Deen 
an  enemy,  else  his  horse  would  have  returned  to  its  mates.' 

"My  own  thought  was  that  he  lived;  I  could  not  be- 
lieve him  dead.  My  mother  told  me  to  cut  off  my  hair, 
but  I  would  not  do  it.  I  said  to  her:  'He  is  alive. 
When  he  returns  should  he  find  my  long  hair  gone  he 
will  be  angry,  for  he  loves  it.  Many  a  time  he  has  him- 
self combed  and  braided  it.' 

"The  days  passed  and  I  waited,  waited  and  watched 
for  him  to  come.  I  began  to  think  that  he  might  be 
dead,  and  then  one  night  my  dream  gave  me  hope.  The 
next  night  and  the  next  it  was  the  same,  and  then  on 
the  fourth  night,  when  my  dream  again  came  and  told 
me  I  knew  that  it  was  true,  that  he  lived.  'Far  away 
to  the  north,'  said  my  dream,  'on  a  river  of  the  plains, 
your  chief  lies  wounded  and  ill  in  a  camp  of  the  prairie 
people.  Go  find  him,  and  help  him  to  get  well.  He  is 
sad  and  lonely,  he  cries  for  you.' 

"So  I  got  ready  and,  one  evening  after  all  were  asleep, 
I  started ;  it  was  the  only  way.  Had  they  known  what 
I  was  about  to  do,  my  father  and  mother  would  have 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN  149 

stopped  me.  I  carried  some  food,  my  awl  and  sinews, 
plenty  of  moccasin  leather.  When  my  food  was  gone  I 
snared  squirrels,  rabbits,  dug  roots,  so  I  was  never  hun- 
gry. But  the  way  was  long,  very,  very  long,  and  I 
feared  the  bears  prowling  and  snuffing  around  in  the 
night.  They  did  not  harm  me ;  my  dream  person  must 
have  kept  them  from  doing  me  wrong.  The  camp,  my 
dream  said,  was  in  sight  of  the  mountains.  After  many 
days  I  came  to  the  Big  River,  and  for  many  more  days 
I  followed  it  down,  until  I  came  in  sight  of  the  white 
men's  houses,  but  I  found  no  camp  of  those  I  sought.  I 
turned  north,  and  coming  to  the  next  stream,  followed 
it  up  to  the  mountains;  still  I  found  no  people.  Then 
I  went  north  again  until  I  came  to  this  little  creek  and 
now  I  meet  you.  Tell  me,  is  my  chief  in  your  camp? " 

Crazy,  say  you?  Well,  that  depends  upon  the  point 
of  view.  Some  there  are  who  believe  in  "a  prophet's 
paradise  to  come."  Some,  for  instance,  have  faith  in 
the  revelations  said  to  have  been  made  to  a  certain 
Joseph  Smith ;  some  believe  in  Allah ;  others  in  Christian 
Science ;  still  others  in  divers  creeds  and  faiths.  If  they 
are  crazy  then  indeed  was  this  Indian  woman  also,  for 
she  had  faith  in  a  dream,  doubted  not  for  one  instant  that 
by  following  its  instructions  she  would  find  her  loved, 
lost  man.  Dreams,  to  most  Indians,  are  a  reality.  They 
believe  that  they  really  do  commune  with  spirits  in  their 
sleep,  that  their  shadows — souls — temporarily  released 
from  the  body,  then  travel  far  and  meet  with  strange 
adventures.  If  a  Blackfoot,  for  instance,  dreams  of  seeing 
green  grass  he  is  absolutely  certain  that  he  will  live  to 
see  another  season  of  spring. 

We  were,  of  course,  obliged  to  tell  the  wanderer  that 
her  lost  one  was  not  in  our  camp.  Weasel  Tail  also 
informed  her  that  some  North  Blackfeet  and  some  Bloods 


i5o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

were  visiting  us,  and  advised  her  to  accompany  us  and 
question  them.  She  readily  consented  to  that,  and  we 
started  homeward.  My  friend  was  riding  a  vicious  little 
mare  which  would  not  carry  double,  so  I  was  obliged  to 
take  the  woman  up  behind  me,  and  we  created  a  big 
sensation  when  we  rode  into  camp  about  sundown. 
Weasel  Tail  had  agreed  to  give  her  a  place  in  his  lodge, 
and  I  had  hoped  to  drop  her  near  it  unobserved  by  the 
mistress  of  a  certain  home  a  little  farther  along.  But 
no  such  luck.  I  espied  Nat-ah'-ki  from  afar  standing 
and  gazing  at  us,  at  the  handsome  young  woman  perched 
behind  me,  her  arms  tightly  clasped  about  my  waist. 
But  when  I  rode  up  to  my  own  lodge  there  was  no 
one  to  greet  me,  and  for  the  first  time  I  was  permitted  to 
unsaddle  my  animal.  I  went  inside  and  sat  down. 
Nat-ah'-ki  was  roasting  some  meat  and  neither  spoke 
nor  looked  up.  Still  in  silence  she  brought  me  water, 
soap,  a  towel  and  comb.  After  I  had  washed  she  set 
before  me  a  bowl  of  soup,  some  meat,  and  then  what  a 
sad,  reproachful  look  she  gave  me.  I  grinned  foolishly, 
vacuously  and,  although  I  had  been  guilty  of  no  wrong, 
somehow  I  could  not  return  her  gaze  and  quickly  busied 
myself  with  my  food.  The  little  woman  fled  to  the  other 
side  of  the  lodge,  covered  her  head  with  her  shawl,  and 
began  to  cry.  Somehow,  although  I  had  thought  I 
was  hungry,  my  food  did  not  taste  good.  I  nervously 
ate  a  little  of  it  and  then  went  out  and  over  to  Weasel 
Tail's. 

"Send  your  mother  over  to  my  lodge,"  I  said,  "and 
have  her  tell  Nat-ah'-ki  all  about  it." 

"  Ah  ha! "  he  laughed,  "  the  young  ones  have  quarrelled, 
have  they?  The  little  one  is  jealous?  Well,  we'll  soon 
fix  it  out,"  and  he  bade  his  mother  go  over. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  when  I  went  home,  Nat-ah'-ki 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN  151 

was  all  smiles  and  welcomed  me  joyously,  insisted  that 
I  should  have  another  supper,  and  gave  me  a  pair  of 
gorgeous  moccasins  which  she  had  been  surreptitiously 
making  for  my  adornment. 

"Oh,  that  poor  Snake  woman,"  she  said  just  before 
we  fell  asleep,  "how  I  pity  her.  To-morrow  I  shall 
make  her  a  present  of  a  horse." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    SNAKE    WOMAN'S    QUEST 

NAT-AH'-KI  was  the  proud  owner  of  a  little  band  of 
horses,  some  of  which  had  sprung  from  mares 
given  her  by  relatives  at  various  times.  She  loved  to 
talk  about  them,  to  describe  the  colour,  age,  and  peculiar- 
ities of  each  one.  A  Blackfoot  who  was  horseless  was  an 
object  of  reproach  and  pity.  Horses  were  the  tribal 
wealth,  and  one  who  owned  a  large  herd  of  them  held  a 
position  only  to  be  compared  to  that  of  our  multi- 
millionaires. There  were  individuals  who  owned  from 
one  hundred  to  three  and  four  hundred.  Were  the 
owners  sonless,  each  employed  some  orphan  boy  to  herd 
them,  to  drive  them  twice  and  thrice  daily  to  water. 
And  they  liked  to  sit  out  on  the  plain  or  hills  for  hours 
at  a  time  to  be  among  them  and  gloat  over  them  as  they 
cropped  the  rich  grass.  When  a  man  died,  the  bulk  of 
his  property  was  divided  among  the  male  relatives,  and 
they  were  so  numerous  that  it  was  rare  for  one  to  inherit 
any  number  of  animals.  He  who  could  count  his  horses 
by  the  hundred,  had  gained  them  by  a  strenuous  life, 
by  many  a  long  raid  against  bordering  tribes,  by  stealing 
into  their  camps  at  night,  by  hand  to  hand  conflict  with 
them  on  many  a  field.  No  wonder  then,  that  he  was 
proud  of  them,  and  of  himself,  and  that  the  people 
honoured  him. 

Nat-ah'-ki's  band  was  herded  by  her  uncle,  Fish  Robe, 
who  himself  had  a  large  herd.  When  they  were  driven 
in  the  morning  after  our  discovery  of  the  Snake  woman, 

153 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN'S  GUEST  153 

she  selected  a  fat,  pot-bellied  roan,  begged  an  old 
woman's  saddle  from  an  aunt,  placed  it  in  position  and 
led  the  animal  over  to  Weasel  Tail's  lodge.  She  handed 
the  end  of  the  lariat  to  the  Snake  woman;  at  first  the 
stranger  did  not  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  act; 
but  when  Nat-ah'-ki  signed  that  the  horse  was  to  be 
hers,  was  a  gift,  her  joy  was  pleasant  to  witness.  The 
two  women  became  great  friends,  and  she  lived  a  part  of 
the  time  with  us.  "  I  am  resting,"  she  said,  "and  ques- 
tioning arriving  visitors  from  other  tribes.  If  I  do  not  soon 
hear  of  my  chief,  I  shall  again  set  forth  in  quest  of  him." 

But  that  was  not  to  be.  One  day  when  she  and  Nat- 
ah'-ki  were  gathering  wood,  a  party  of  Bloods  passed 
by  on  their  way  to  our  camp,  and  she  ran  after  them  as 
fast  as  she  could,  Nat-ah'-ki  following  and  wondering 
if  the  poor  woman  had  lost  her  wits.  The  visitors  dis- 
mounted and  entered  our  chief's  lodge.  The  Snake 
woman,  excited,  trembling,  pointed  at  one  of  the  horses 
they  rode,  a  black  and  white  pinto,  and  signed:  "I 
know  it;  my  chief 's  horse.  Ask  the  man  where  he  got  it." 

Nat-ah'-ki  went  inside  and  made  known  the  request 
to  one  of  the  women  of  the  lodge,  and  the  latter,  as  soon 
as  there  was  a  break  in  the  conversation,  repeated  it  to 
Big  Lake.  All  heard  her,  of  course,  and  one  of  the  vis- 
itors spoke  up:  "The  pinto  is  mine,"  he  said,  "my 
taking." 

"Bring  the  woman  in!"  Big  Lake  ordered,  and  he 
told  his  guests  about  our  finding  her  alone  on  the  plain, 
about  her  dream  and  her  quest. 

She  came  inside  all  eagerness,  the  inbred  diffidence  of 
a  woman  facing  a  number  of  chiefs  and  men  of  dis- 
tinction forgotten.  "Who,  who,"  she  quickly  signed, 
"is  the  rider  of  the  pinto  horse?" 

" I  am, "  the  Blood  signed.     "  What  about  it? " 


154  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"It  is  my  horse — my  man's  horse,  the  one  he  rode 
away  one  morning  three  moons  ago.  And  what  of 
my  man?  Did  you  see  him?  How  came  you  by  his 
horse?" 

The  Blood  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  replied: 
"We  went  to  war.  Away  south  of  the  Ground-of- 
many-gifts,*  at  daylight  one  morning,  a  man  riding 
the  pinto  horse  surprised  us,  and  I  killed  him.  I  took 
the  animal  for  my  own." 

As  he  gestured  his  answer,  the  woman  suddenly  noticed 
a  bear's  claw  necklace  he  wore,  and  pointing  to  it, 
she  gave  a  fearful,  heartbroken,  gasping  sob,  and  fled 
from  the  lodge.  She  went  crying  through  the  camp, 
and  at  the  edge  of  the  timber  sat  down,  covered  her  head 
with  her  robe,  and  began  to  wail  for  the  one  who  was 
dead. 

Did  you,  reader,  ever  hear  a  woman  of  the  plains 
mourn  for  a  lost  loved  one,  calling  his  or  her  name 
heart-brokenly,  despairingly,  over  and  over  again  for 
hours  at  a  time?  Nothing  else  in  all  this  world  is  so 
mournful,  so  expressive  of  the  feelings  of  one  whom 
death  has  bereaved  of  a  dear  child,  relative,  companion. 
I  can  liken  but  one  thing  to  it,  and  that  is  the  cry  of  the 
mourning  dove.  It  embodies  all  the  feelings,  the 
thoughts,  of  one  utterly  desolate,  forsaken.  Somewhere 
I  have  read,  or  heard,  that  an  Indian's  loss  of  to-day  is 
forgotten  on  the  morrow.  That  is  certainly  not  true  of 
the  Blackfeet,  nor  of  the  Mandans.  Often  and  often 
I  have  heard  many  of  the  Blackfeet  mourn  for  one  dead 


*The  country  in  the  vicinity  of  Helena,  Montana,  which  city,  by  the  way, 
the  Blackfeet  have  given  the  same  name.  It  was  a  land  rich  in  game  and 
berries,  hence  the  appellation: 

Ah-kwo'  to-kwu-si  sak-6m. 
Much        giving      ground 


THE  SNAKE  WOMAN'S  QUEST  155 

long  years  since.  The  Mandans  used  to  care  for  the 
bones  of  their  departed  ones.  Those  of  each  family 
were  placed  in  a  little  circle  on  the  burying  ground, 
and  thither  the  survivors  would  repair  frequently  to 
deposit  choice  food,  and  to  talk  to  the  skulls  of  their 
dear  ones,  just  as  if  they  were  alive  and  in  the  flesh.  It 
is  not  for  the  Anglo-Saxon  to  boast  of  affection,  of  con- 
stancy, for  he  can  take  lessons  from  the  despised  red 
men.  Never,  with  the  Indians — I  speak  only  of  the 
two  tribes  before  mentioned — was  there  a  separation 
except  for  adultery,  and  that  was  rare  indeed;  nor  did 
they  ever  abuse  or  desert  their  offspring.  The  affec- 
tion of  parents  for  their  children,  their  pride  in  them, 
their  sacrifices  for  them,  were  practically  limit- 
less. And  such  also  was  the  regard  in  which  the 
young  held  their  elders.  Family  ties  were  something 
sacred. 

I  have  often  heard  the  Blackfeet  speak  of  various  white 
men  as  utterly  heartless,  because  they  had  left  their 
parents  and  their  youthful  home  to  wander  and  seek 
adventure  in  a  strange  land.  They  could  not  com- 
prehend how  one  with  right  feeling  might  absent  him- 
self from  father  and  mother,  as  we  do,  for  months  and 
years.  "Hard  hearts,"  "stone  hearts,"  they  callus, 
and  with  some  reason. 

The  Snake  woman  continued  to  mourn,  passing  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  up  on  the  hill,  or  at  the  edge 
of  the  timber,  wailing.  She  cut  off  her  hair,  scarified 
her  ankles,  ate  little,  grew  thin  and  listless;  and  finally 
a  day  came  when  she  remained  on  her  couch  instead  of 
arising  with  the  others  in  Weasel  Tail's  lodge.  "I  am 
to  die,"  she  signed,  "and  I  am  glad.  I  did  not  under- 
stand my  dream.  I  thought  that  I  was  told  to  seek 
my  chief  in  the  flesh.  Instead,  it  was  meant  that  my 


i56  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

shadow  should  look  for  his  shadow.  I  see  it  plainly 
now,  and  in  a  few  nights  I  start.  I  know  that  I  shall 
find  him." 

And  start  she  did.  She  died  on  the  fourth  day  of 
her  illness,  and  the  women  buried  her  decently,  re- 
spectfully, in  a  not  far  distant  tree. 


CHAPTER  XV 

I    RETURN   TO    MY    PEOPLE 

THE  long  summer  days  went  one  by  one,  lingeringly, 
peacefully,  happily.  No  war  parties  attacked 
us,  and  the  young  men  who  went  out  to  war  upon  other 
tribes  returned  spoil-laden,  without  loss  to  their  numbers. 
Perhaps  in  those  times  I  was  not  much  given  to  think- 
ing about  things;  but  I  knew  when  I  was  content,  was 
fully  satisfied  with  the  returns  of  each  day  and  hour,  and 
looked  not  to  the  future  nor  what  it  might  have  in  store 
for  me.  But  one  thing  troubled  me,  the  insistent  let- 
ters from  home,  commanding  me  to  return.  They 
were  several  months  old  when  I  got  them,  as  were  my 
New  York  Tribunes  and  other  papers.  I  ceased  read- 
ing any  more  than  the  headlines  of  the  papers;  they 
had  no  more  interest  to  me,  but  I  could  not  help  worry- 
ing about  the  contents  of  the  letters.  There  were 
grave  reasons  why  I  should  heed  them,  should  go  home 
on  or  before  the  date  that  I  became  of  age.  Many  an 
unpleasant  half  hour  I  passed  after  breaking  their  seals, 
and  then,  consigning  them  to  the  flames  of  the  lodge 
fire,  I  would  go  out  with  Nat-ah'-ki  for  a  ride,  or  to 
some  feast  or  social  gathering.  It  was  interesting  to 
note  the  extreme  care  with  which  my  mail  was  handled. 
It  was  securely  bunched  tip  by  my  Fort  Benton  friends, 
and  then  those  to  whom  it  was  intrusted  re-wrapped 
and  re-bound  it  in  various  coverings.  The  Blackfeet 
ever  regarded  the  arts  of  writing  and  reading  as  the 
greatest  of  accomplishments.  Some  of  them  would 


158  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

sit  for  hours  inspecting  the  pictures  in  my  magazines  and 
papers,  and  although  they  persisted  in  holding  them 
sideways,  or  even  upside  down,  they  seemed,  neverthe- 
less, to  grasp  their  significance.  Nat-ah'-ki  was  wont  to 
spread  out  my  letters  and  endeavour  to  learn  what 
they  told,  although,  of  course,  she  knew  not  even  a 
letter  of  the  alphabet.  She  early  came  to  know  my 
mother's  handwriting,  and  when  I  received  letters  from 
others  written  in  characteristically  feminine  style,  she 
would  watch  me  closely  as  I  read  them  and  then  ques- 
tion me  as  to  the  writers.  "Oh,"  I  would  carelessly 
answer,  "they  are  from  relatives,  women  of  our  house, 
just  telling  me  the  news  and  asking  if  I  am  well  and 
happy." 

And  then  she  would  shake  her  head  doubtfully,  and 
exclaim:  "Relatives!  Oh,  yes,  relatives!  Tell  me 
truly  how  many  sweethearts  you  have  in  the  land  from 
whence  you  came?" 

Then  I  would  truthfully  answer,  swearing  by  the  Sun, 
calling  upon  him  to  bear  witness  that  I  had  but  the  one 
sweetheart,  she  there  present,  and  she  would  be  content 
— until  I  received  another  bundle  of  letters.  As  the 
summer  wore  on  these  letters  became  more  frequent, 
and  I  realised  with  ever-increasing  regret  that  my  days 
of  happy,  irresponsible  wandering  were  about  over, 
that  I  must  go  home  and  begin  the  career  which  was 
expected  of  me. 

We  left  the  Marias  not  long  after  the  death  of  the 
Snake  woman,  moved  south  by  the  way  of  the  Pend 
d'Oreille  Coulee  and  the  Knees,  and  camped  on  the 
Teton  River,  the  stream  which  Lewis  and  Clark  named 
the  Tansy,  and  which  the  Blackfeet  rightly  call  Un'-i-kis- 
is-i-si-sak-ta,  Milk  River,  for  its  waters  in  its  lower 
course  are  ever  of  a  milky  colour.  Late  in  August  we 


I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  159 

moved  to  a  point  on  this  stream  only  three  miles  north 
of  Fort  Benton,  and  every  day  or  so  I  used  to  ride  in 
there,  often  accompanied  by  Nat-ah'-ki,  whose  desire 
for  various  bright-coloured  prints,  ribbons,  shawls,  and 
beads,  was  well  nigh  insatiable.  There  we  found  Berry 
and  his  good  wife,  his  mother,  and  the  Crow  woman,  the 
two  latter  recently  returned  from  a  sojourn  with  the 
Mandans.  And  thither,  one  day,  came  Sorrel  Horse 
and  his  outfit.  He  and  Berry  were  making  preparations 
for  the  winter  trade.  I  was  beginning  to  feel  pretty 
blue.  I  showed  them  my  letters,  told  them  what  was 
expected  of  me,  and  declared  that  I  must  return  east. 
They  both  laughed  long,  loudly,  uproariously,  and 
slapped  each  other  on  the  back,  and  I  gazed  solemnly, 
reproachfully  at  them.  I  could  not  see  that  I  had  joked 
or  said  anything  funny. 

"He's  goin'  home,"  said  Sorrel  Horse,  "and  he's 
goin'  to  be  a  good,  quiet  little  boy  ever  after." 

"And  go  to  church,"  said  Berry. 

"And  walk  the  straight  and  narrer  path,  world  with- 
out end,  and  so  forth,"  Sorrel  Horse  concluded. 

"Well,  you  see  how  it  is,"  I  said.  "I've  got  to  go — 
much  as  I  would  like  to  remain  here  with  you;  I  simply 
must  go." 

"Yes,"  Berry  acquiesced;  "you  have  to  go  all  right 
— but  you'll  come  back.  Oh,  yes!  you'll  come  back, 
and  sooner  than  you  think.  These  plains  and  moun- 
tains, the  free  life  have  you,  and  they'll  never  let  go. 
I've  known  others  to  return  to  the  States  from  here,  but 
unless  they  died  back  there  right  quick,  they  soon  came 
back.  They  couldn't  help  it.  Mind  you,  I've  been 
back  there  myself;  went  to  school  there,  and  all  the 
time  old  Montana  kept  calling  me,  and  I  never  felt  right 
until  I  saw  the  sun  shining  on  her  bare  plains  once  more 


160  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

and  the  Rockies  looming  up  sharp  and  clear  in  the  dis- 
tance." 

"And  then,"  Sorrel  Horse  put  in,  speaking  Blackfoot, 
which  was  as  easy  to  him  as  English,  "and  then,  what 
about  Nat-ah'-ki?  Can  you  forget  her,  do  you 
think?" 

He  had,  indeed,  touched  the  sore  spot.  That  was 
what  was  worrying  me.  I  couldn't  answer.  We  were 
sitting  in  a  corner  of  Keno  Bill's  place.  I  jumped  up 
from  my  chair,  hurried  out,  and  mounting  my  horse, 
rode  swiftly  over  the  hill  to  camp. 

We  ate  our  evening  meal:  dried  meat  and  back  fat 
(o-sak'  i) ,  stewed  dried  apples — how  good  they  were — 
and  yeast  powder  bread.  In  due  time  I  went  to  bed, 
and  for  hours  I  rolled  and  tossed  uneasily  on  my  couch. 
"Nat-ah'-ki,"  I  finally  asked,  "are  you  awake?" 

"Ah." 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something:  I  must  go  away  for 
a  time;  my  people  call  me." 

"That  is  not  news  to  me.  I  have  long  known  that 
you  would  go." 

"How  did  you  know?"     I  asked.     "I  told  no  one." 

"Have  I  not  seen  you  read  the  little  writings?  Have 
I  not  watched  your  face?  I  could  see  what  the  writing 
told  you.  I  know  that  you  are  going  to  leave  me.  I 
have  always  known  that  you  would.  You  are  no  dif- 
ferent from  other  white  men.  They  are  all  unfaithful, 
heartless.  They  marry  for  but  a  day." 

She  began  to  cry;  not  loud,  just  low,  despairing, 
heart-broken  sobs.  Oh,  how  I  hated  myself.  How  I 
did  hate  myself.  But  I  had  opened  the  subject.  I 
felt  that  I  must  carry  it  through,  and  I  began  to  lie  to 
her,  hating  myself  more  and  more  every  moment.  I 
told  her  that  I  was  now  twenty-one,  at  which  time  a 


I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  161 

white  youth  becomes  a  man.  That  there  were  papers 
about  the  property  which  my  father  had  left,  that  I 
must  go  home  to  sign.  "  But,"  I  said,  and  I  called  on  the 
Sun  to  witness  my  words,  "I  will  return;  I  will  come 
back  in  a  few  moons,  and  we  will  once  more  be  happy 
While  I  am  away  Berry  will  look  out  for  you  and  your 
good  mother.  You  shall  want  for  nothing." 

And  thus,  explaining,  lying,  I  drove  away  her  fear  and 
sorrow,  and  she  fell  peacefully  asleep.  But  there  was 
no  sleep  for  me.  In  the  morning  I  again  rode  in  to  the 
Fort  and  talked  long  with  Berry.  He  agreed  to  look 
after  the  girl  and  her  mother  and  keep  them  supplied 
with  all  necessary  food  and  clothing,  until  such  a  time, 
I  explained,  "as  Nat-ah'-ki  will  forget  me  and  become 
some  other  man's  woman."  I  nearly  choked  when  I 
said  it. 

Berry  laughed  quietly.  "She  will  never  be  another 
man's  woman,"  he  said.  "You  will  be  only  too  glad  to 
return.  I  shall  see  you  again  inside  of  six  months." 

The  last  steamboat  of  the  season  was  discharging 
freight  at  the  levee,  and  was  to  leave  for  St.  Louis  in 
the  morning.  I  went  back  to  camp  and  prepared  to  leave 
on  it.  There  was  not  much  to  do,  merely  to  pack  up  a 
few  native  things  I  wished  to  take  home.  Nat-ah'-ki 
rode  back  with  me,  and  we  passed  the  night  with  Berry 
and  his  family.  It  was  not  a  festive  time  to  me.  Berry's 
mother  and  the  faithful  old  Crow  woman  both  lectured  me 
long  and  earnestly  on  the  duty  of  man  to  woman,  on 
faithfulness — and  what  they  said  hurt,  for  I  was  about 
to  do  that  which  they  so  strongly  condemned. 

And  so,  in  the  morning,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  parted,  and 
I  shook  hands  with  every  one  and  went  on  board.  The 
boat  swung  out  into  the  stream,  turned  around,  and  we 
went  flying  down  the  swift  current,  over  the  Shonkin 


i6a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Bar  and  around  the  bend.  The  old  Fort,  the  happy 
days  of  the  past  year  were  now  but  a  memory. 

There  were  a  number  of  passengers  aboard,  mostly 
miners  from  Helena  and  Virginia  City,  returning  to  the 
States  with  more  or  less  dust. 

They  gambled,  and  drank,  and  in  a  vain  effort  to  get 
rid  of  my  thoughts,  I  joined  in  their  madness.  I  re- 
member that  I  lost  three  hundred  dollars  at  one  sitting, 
and  that  the  bad  liquor  made  me  very  ill.  Also,  I  nearly 
fell  overboard  near  Cow  Island.  We  had  run  into  a 
large  herd  of  buffalo  swimming  the  river,  and  I  tried  to 
rope  a  huge  old  bull  from  the  bow  of  the  boat.  The 
loop  settled  fairly  over  his  head,  but  we  had  not  counted 
on  such  a  shock  as  I  and  the  three  others  helping  me  got 
when  the  rope  tightened.  In  an  instant  it  was  jerked 
from  our  hands.  I  lost  my  balance,  and  would  have 
followed  it  into  the  water  had  not  the  next  man  behind 
happened  to  catch  me  by  the  collar  and  draw  me  back. 

We  tied  up  to  the  shore  each  night;  there  were  con- 
stant head  winds  after  we  entered  Dakota,  and  when 
early  in  October  we  arrived  at  Council  Bluffs,  I  was  glad 
to  leave  the  boat  and  board  a  train  of  the  Union  Pacific. 
In  due  time  I  arrived  in  the  little  New  England  town, 
where  was  my  home. 

I  saw  the  place  and  the  people  with  new  eyes ;  I  cared 
for  neither  of  them  any  more.  It  was  a  pretty  place, 
but  it  was  all  fenced  up,  and  for  a  year  I  had  lived  in  the 
beyond,  where  fences  were  unknown.  The  people  were 
good  people,  but,  oh !  how  narrow-minded.  Their  ways 
were  as  prim  and  conventional  as  were  the  hideous  fences 
which  marked  the  bounds  of  their  farms.  And  this  is 
the  way  most  of  them  greeted  me:  "Ah!  my  boy,  so 
you've  come  home,  have  you.  Been  a  hull  year  in  the 
Indian  country.  It's  a  wonder  you  wasn't  scalped. 


I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  163 

Those  Indians  are  terrible  bad  people,  so  I've  heard. 
Wall,  you've  had  your  fling;  I  suppose  you'll  steady 
down  now  and  go  into  business  of  some  kind." 

To  only  two  men  in  the  whole  place  could  I  tell  any- 
thing of  what  I  had  seen  or  done,  for  they  were  the  only 
ones  who  could  understand.  One  was  a  humble  painter, 
ostracised  by  all  good  people  because  he  never  went 
to  church,  and  would  occasionally  enter  a  saloon  in  broad 
daylight.  The  other  was  a  grocer.  Both  of  them  were 
fox  and  partridge  hunters,  and  loved  the  ways  of  the 
wild.  Night  after  night  I  would  sit  with  them  by  the 
grocery  stove,  long  after  the  staid  villagers  had  retired, 
and  talk  of  the  great  plains  and  the  mountains,  of  the 
game  and  the  red  people.  And  in  their  excitement,  as 
their  minds  pictured  that  wonderful  land  and  its  free- 
dom, they  would  get  up  and  pace  the  floor,  and  sigh,  and 
rub  their  hands.  They  wanted  to  see  it  all,  to  experience 
it  all  as  I  had,  but  they  were  "bound  to  the  wheel." 
It  was  impossible  for  them  to  leave  home,  and  wife,  and 
children.  I  felt  sorry  for  them. 

But  even  to  them  I  said  nothing  about  a  certain  other 
tie  which  bound  me  to  that  land  of  sunshine.  There 
was  not  a  moment  of  my  waking  hours  in  which  I  did 
not  think  of  Nat-ah'-ki  and  the  wrong  I  had  done  her. 
Across  the  several  thousand  miles  which  separated  us, 
I  could  see  her  in  my  mind's  eye,  helping  her  mother  in 
the  various  occupations  of  the  lodge,  and  her  manner 
was  listless;  no  more  her  hearty  infectious  laughter 
rang  out,  and  in  her  eyes  there  was  an  expression  which 
was  far  from  happy.  Thus  I  pictured  her  by  day,  and 
in  my  dreams  at  night,  awakening  to  find  myself  talking 
Blackfoot  to  her,  and  trying  to  explain  away  my  faith- 
lessness. The  days  passed  for  me  in  deadly  monotony, 
and  I  was  in  constant  strife  with  my  relatives.  Not 


i64  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

with  my  mother,  I  am  thankful  to  say.  I  think  that 
she  rather  sympathised  with  me.  But  there  were  uncles 
and  aunts,  and  others,  old  friends  of  my  long  dead  father, 
all  well  meaning,  of  course,  who  thought  that  it  was  in- 
cumbent on  them  to  advise  me,  and  shape  my  future. 
And  from  the  start  we  were  antagonistic.  They  brought 
me  to  task  for  refusing  to  attend  church.  To  attend 
church!  To  listen  to  a  sermon,  forsooth,  upon  predes- 
tination, and  the  actual  hell  of  fire  and  brimstone  await- 
ing all  who  lapsed  from  the  straight  and  narrow  path. 
I  no  longer  believed  that.  My  year  with  old  Mother 
Nature,  and  ample  time  to  think,  had  taught  me  many 
things.  Not  a  day  passed  but  what  I  got  a  lecture  from 
some  of  them,  because,  for  instance,  I  drank  a  harmless 
glass  of  beer  with  some  trapper  or  guide  from  the  North 
Woods.  There  was  more  real  human  kindliness,  more 
broad-mindedness  in  one  of  those  simple  men  of  the 
woods,  than  there  was  in  the  hearts  of  all  my  perse- 
cutors. 

Diagonally  across  the  way  from  us  lived  a  good  old 
Methodist.  It  was  his  habit  to  ascend  to  the  attic  of  a 
Sunday  and  pray.  On  a  summer  day,  when  windows 
were  open,  one  could  hear  him  for  hours  at  a  time,  en- 
treating his  God  to  forgive  his  many  and  grievous  sins — 
he  had  never  committed  one — and  to  grant  him  an  hum- 
ble place  in  the  life  hereafter.  He  also  came  and  be- 
sought me  to  change  my  ways.  To  change  my  ways? 
What  had  I  done,  I  wondered,  that  made  all  these  people 
so  anxious  about  me?  Was  this  man's  life  a  happy  one? 
No:  he  lived  in  constant  fear  of  a  jealous  God.  What 
had  I  done  ?  I  had  been  friendly  to  certain  black  sheep 
who  longed  for  a  pleasant  word.  I  had  entered  the  hotel 
bar  and  in  broad  daylight  clinked  glasses  with  them. 
These  were  not,  in  my  estimation,  sins.  But,  deep 


I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  165 

down  in  my  heart,  there  lay  a  heavy  load.     One  wrong 
thing  I  had  done,  a  grievous  one.     What  of  Nat-ah'-ki  ? 

There  came  a  certain  night  when  all  the  well-meaning 
ones  were  gathered  at  our  home.  They  had  decided 
that  I  should  buy  out  a  retiring  merchant,  who,  in  the 
course  of  forty  or  fifty  years,  has  acquired  a  modest 
competency.  That  was  the  last  straw.  I  arose  in  my 
wrath,  and  tried  to  tell  them  what  I  thought  of  the 
narrow  life  they  led;  but  words  failed  me,  and,  seizing 
my  hat,  I  fled  from  the  house.  It  was  past  midnight 
when  I  returned,  but  my  mother  was  waiting  for  me. 
We  sat  down  by  the  fire  and  talked  the  matter  out.  I 
reminded  her  that  from  earliest  youth  I  had  preferred 
the  forests  and  streams,  rifle  and  rod,  to  the  so-called 
attractions  of  society,  and  that  I  felt  I  could  not  bear  to 
live  in  a  town  or  city,  nor  undertake  a  civilised  occu- 
pation of  any  kind,  especially  one  which  would  keep  me 
confined  in  a  store  or  office.  And  she,  wise  woman, 
agreed  that  as  my  heart  was  not  in  it,  it  would  be  useless 
to  attempt  anything  of  the  kind.  And  she  also  ad- 
mitted that,  since  I  had  come  to  love  the  plains  and 
mountains  so  well,  it  was  best  that  I  should  return  to 
them.  I  said  nothing  about  Nat-ah'-ki.  Some  time 
in  the  future,  I  determined,  when  I  had  done  the  right 
thing,  she  should  learn  all.  For  the  first  time  in  weeks 
I  went  to  bed  with  a  light  heart.  Two  days  later  I 
boarded  a  train,  and  in  due  time  arriving  in  St.  Louis, 
put  up  with  genial  Ben  Stickney  of  the  Planters'  Hotel. 
There  I  fell  in  touch  with  things  once  more.  I  met  men 
from  Texas  and  Arizona,  from  Wyoming  and  Montana, 
and  we  talked  of  the  fenceless  land,  of  the  Indians  and 
the  buffalo  trade,  of  cattle  and  miners,  and  various  ad- 
ventures we  had  experienced.  We  would  congregate 
in  the  lobby  of  an  evening  and  sit  there  talking  and 


1 66  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

smoking  until  long  after  midnight,  or  we  would  go  out 
in  a  body  and  see  the  town  in  true  Western  style.  If  we 
were  a  trifle  hilarious,  the  police  were  good,  and  kindly 
looked  the  other  way  when  our  sombreroed  crowd 
tramped  by,  singing  perchance,  at  the  top  of  our  voices. 

Also,  I  did  not  forget  Nat-ah'-ki.  I  bought  another 
trunk,  and  prowling  around  among  the  stores  picked  up 
various  washable  things  of  quaint  and  pretty  pattern, 
strings  of  beads,  a  pair  of  serpent  bracelets,  a  gold  neck- 
lace, and  various  other  articles  dear  to  the  feminine 
heart.  At  last  the  trunk  was  so  full  that  I  could  barely 
lock  it,  and  then,  gathering  up  my  things,  I  boarded  a 
train  for  Corinne,  Wyoming.  We  were,  I  believe,  four 
days  and  nights  en  route.  From  there  by  stage  to 
Helena  a  week,  and  on  to  Fort  Benton  two  days  more. 
My  first  inquiry  was  for  Berry.  He  was  down  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Marias,  the  trader  told  me,  with  the  Piegans, 
but  his  mother  and  the  Crow  woman  were  living  in  the 
little  cabin  above,  and,  with  a  knowing  wink,  he  added 
that  he  believed  a  certain  young  woman  named  Nat- 
ah'ki  was  with  them. 

It  was  very  early  in  the  morning.  I  hurried  out  and 
up  the  dusty  trail.  A  faint  smoke  was  beginning  to 
arise  from  the  chimney  of  the  little  cabin.  I  pushed  open 
the  door  and  entered.  Nat-ah'-ki  was  kneeling  before 
the  fireplace  blowing  the  reluctant  flame.  "Ah,"  she 
cried,  springing  up  and  running  to  me,  "he  has  come! 
My  man  has  come!"  She  threw  her  arms  around  my 
neck  and  kissed  me,  and  in  another  instant  she  was  in 
the  next  room  crying  out:  "Awake,  arise;  my  man  has 
returned!" 

Berry's  mother  and  the  Crow  woman  hurried  out  and 
also  embraced  and  kissed  me,  and  we  all  tried  to  talk  at 
once,  Nat-ah'-ki  hanging  to  my  arm  and  gazing  at  me 


I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  167 

with  brimming  eyes.  "Ah,"  she  said,  over  and  over, 
"they  kept  telling  me  that  you  would  not  come  back, 
but  I  knew  that  they  were  wrong.  I  knew  that  you 
would  not  forget  me." 

Truly,  these  were  my  people.  I  had  returned  to  my 
own.  Come  what  might,  I  vowed  never  to  even  think 
of  leaving  the  little  woman  again,  and  I  kept  my  word. 
Kept  it,  say  I — I  never  had  cause  nor  wish  to  do  any- 
thing else. 

That  was  a  queer  breakfast  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  had;  in 
fact,  no  breakfast  at  all.  We  gave  up  attempting  to  eat, 
and  she  recounted  all  that  had  happened  during  my 
absence.  Then  she  questioned  me:  What  had  I  been 
doing  all  this  time?  What  had  I  seen?  Was  my  good 
mother  well?  I  had  nothing  to  relate.  I  wanted  to 
hear  her  talk,  to  watch  her  happiness,  and  in  that  I  was 
happy  too.  In  due  time  my  trunks  were  brought  over, 
and  handing  her  the  key  of  one,  I  said  that  it  and  its 
contents  were  all  hers.  What  exclamations  of  surprise, 
of  admiration  there  were  as  she  unwrapped  and  unfolded 
the  various  things  and  spread  them  out  here  and  there  on 
table  and  couch  and  chairs.  She  threw  the  necklace  on 
over  her  head,  clasped  on  the  bracelets,  ran  over  and 
gave  me  a  silent  kiss,  and  then  laid  them  away.  "They 
are  too  nice,  too  good,"  she  said.  "I  am  not  handsome 
enough  to  wear  them." 

Then  she  came  back  and  whispered:  "  But  all  these  are 
too  many  for  me.  May  I  give  some  of  them  to  my 
grandmothers?" — meaning  Mrs.  Berry  and  the  Crow 
woman. 

In  the  lot  there  were  several  quiet  dress  patterns,  a 
couple  of  shawls,  which  I  had  intended  for  them,  and  I 
said  that  they  would  be  appropriate  gifts  for  women  of 
advanced  age.  How  happy  she  was  as  she  picked  them 


1 68  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

up  and  presented  them  to  the  faithful  friends.  I  look 
back  upon  that  morning  as  the  pleasantest  one  of  my  life. 

After  a  while  I  strolled  out  and  down  to  Keno  Bill's 
place.  It  was  December,  but  there  was  no  snow  on  the 
ground.  The  sun  shone  warm,  a  gentle  chinook  was 
blowing.  I  thought  of  the  far-away  New  England  village 
shrouded  in  three  feet  of  snow,  and  shivered. 

I  found  the  usual  crowd  in  Keno's  place.  Judge  D., 
a  brilliant  lawyer  and  an  ex-commander  in  the  Fenian 
war,  was  playing  the  marshal  a  game  of  seven-up  for  the 
drinks.  Some  bull-whackers  and  mule-skinners  were 
bucking  faro.  A  couple  of  buckskin-clad,  kit-fox-capped, 
moccasined  trappers  were  arguing  on  the  best  way  to 
set  a  beaver  trap  in  an  ice-covered  dam.  They  were  all 
glad  to  see  me,  and  I  was  promptly  escorted  to  the  bar. 
Several  asked  casually,  what  was  new  in  the  States? 
Not  that  they  cared  anything  about  them;  they  spoke 
of  them  as  of  some  far-off  and  foreign  country. 

"Hm!"  said  Judge  D.,  "you  didn't  remain  there 
long,  did  you,  my  boy?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "I  didn't;  Montana  is  good  enough 
for  me." 

"Montana!"  cried  the  Judge,  lifting  his  glass. 
"Here's  to  her  and  her  sun-kissed  plains.  Here's  to 
her  noble  mountains;  her  Indians  and  buffalo;  and  to 
those  of  us  whom  kind  fortune  has  given  a  life  within  her 
bounds.  Of  all  men,  we  are  most  favoured  of  the  gods." 

We  all  cheered  the  toast — and  drank. 

So  it  used  to  happen  in  the  frontier  towns.  One  man 
begins  in  the  morning  to  assuage  a  suddenly  acquired  thirst, 
and  one  by  one,  and  by  twos,  and  threes,  and  fours,  the 
rest  join  in,  merchants,  lawyers,  doctors,  and  all,  until 
not  a  sober  man  is  left,  until  all  are  hilarious,  and  half 
seas  over.  Judge  D. — peace  to  his  ashes — started  it; 


I  RETURN  TO  MY  PEOPLE  169 

by  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  things  were  pretty  lively. 
I  left  the  crowd  and  went  home.  The  buffalo  robe, 
couch  and  a  pipe,  the  open  fire  and  Nat-ah'-ki's  cheerful 
presence,  were  more  to  my  liking. 

At  sundown,  who  should  roll  in  but  Berry  and  Sorrel 
Horse,  with  their  women.  How  glad  I  was  to  see  them 
all  again.  "You  didn't  think  that  I  would  return?" 
I  hazarded. 

They  laughed.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  that  you  would," 
said  Berry.  "I  only  wonder  that  you  didn't  come 
sooner." 

We  sat  by  the  fire  until  late,  the  women  chattering  in 
another  room.  We  went  to  bed.  "Little  woman," 
I  said  taking  her  hand,  "pity  your  man;  he  is 
not  so  good  as  he  might  be ;  there  are  bad  places  in  his 
heart " 

"Stop!"  she  exclaimed.  "Stop!  You  are  good,  all 
good.  I  would  not  have  you  different  from  what  you 
are.  You  have  come  back  to  me.  I  cannot  tell  how 
happy  I  am — I  have  not  power  to  do  so." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    STORY    OF    RISING    WOLF 

WHEN  Berry  and  Sorrel  Horse  returned  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Marias, Nat-ah'-ki  and  I,  of  course, 
went  with  them.  Word  of  our  coming  had  preceded  us, 
and  when  we  arrived  in  the  great  camp  at  dusk  there  we 
found  our  lodge  set  up  between  those  of  Talks-with- 
the-buffalo  and  Weasel  Tail.  Beside  it  was  a  pile  of 
firewood ;  within  a  well-built  fire  was  burning  cheerfully ; 
at  the  back  our  couch  of  soft  robes  and  warm  blankets 
was  spread,  guest  seats  with  the  comfortable  backrests 
arranged,  and  in  their  proper  place  were  our  parfleches 
and  cooking  utensils,  the  former  well  filled  with  dried 
berries  and  choice  dried  meats  and  tongues  and  pem- 
mican.  All  this  had  been  done  by  Nat-ah'-ki's  good 
mother,  who  greeted  her  daughter  with  a  hearty  hug 
and  kiss  and  me  with  a  shy  but  sincere  welcome.  She 
was  a  good  woman;  I  may  say  a  noble  woman.  Yes, 
a  noble,  high-minded,  self-sacrificing  woman,  always 
doing  something  to  alleviate  the  suffering  of  the  sick 
and  the  sorrow  of  the  bereaved. 

I  had  no  sooner  got  down  from  the  wagon  and  gone 
inside,  leaving  Nat-ah'-ki  and  her  mother  to  bring  in  our 
possessions,  than  my  friends  began  to  arrive,  and  right 
glad  they  seemed  to  be  to  see  me  again,  as  pleased  as  I 
was  to  meet  them  and  hear  them  say,  as  they  heartily 
grasped  my  hand:  " Ah'-ko-two-ki-tuk'-ah-an-on" — 
our  friend  has  returned. 

170 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  171 

They  told  me  briefly  of  the  happenings  during  my 
absence,  and  then  asked  for  the  story  of  my  trip.  While 
Nat-ah'-ki  prepared  a  little  feast,  and  they  smoked,  I 
gave  it  to  them  as  well  as  I  could,  giving  the  number 
of  days  that  I  had  travelled  on  the  steamboat,  and  then 
on  the  train,  in  order  to  reach  my  home,  a  distance  in  all 
of  100  nights'  sleep  were  one  to  travel  it  on  horseback. 
I  had  to  repeat  the  story  several  times  that  night,  once 
in  the  chief's  lodge.  When  I  had  finished  the  old  man 
inquired  particularly  about  the  railroad  and  its  trains, 
fire- wagons — is-tsi'  an'-e-kas-im — as  he  called  them. 
He  wanted  to  know  if  any  of  them  were  heading  for  his 
country. 

"No,"  I  replied,  "none  are  coming  this  way;  there 
is  but  the  one,  that  which  runs  east  and  west  far  south  of 
here,  through  the  land  of  the  Wolf  People  and  the  Sheep 
Eaters." 

"Ai!"  he  said,  thoughtfully  stroking  his  chin,  "Ai! 
that  one  many  of  us  have  seen  on  our  raids  to  the  south. 
Yes,  we  have  seen  it,  the  wagons,  crowded  with  people, 
roaring  across  the  plain,  killing  and  scaring  the  buffalo. 
Some  day  you  write  to  our  Grandfather  (the  President) 
and  tell  him  that  we  will  not  allow  one  to  enter  our  coun- 
try. Yes,  tell  him  that  I,  Big  Lake,  send  him  this  word: 
'The  white  men  shall  neither  put  a  fire-wagon  trail  across 
the  country  of  my  people,  nor  settle  here  and  tear  up 
the  sod  of  our  valleys  in  order  to  plant  the  things  they 
feed  upon.'  ' 

I  attended  many  a  feast  that  night,  no  sooner  finish- 
ing a  visit  at  one  lodge  than  I  was  invited  to  another 
one.  It  was  late  when  I  finally  returned  home  and  lay 
down  to  rest,  the  song  and  laughter  of  the  great  camp, 
the  howling  of  the  wolves  and  coyotes  lulling  me  to  sleep. 
I  thought  of  the  far-away  New  England  village  buried 


172  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

in  deep  snow,  and  of  its  dreary  monotony.  "Thrice 
blest  am  I  by  propitious  gods,"  I  murmured. 

Nat-ah'-ki  nudged  me.  "You  talk  in  your  sleep," 
she  said. 

"I  was  not  asleep;  I  was  thinking  aloud." 

"And  what  thought  you?" 

"The  gods  pity  me,"  I  replied.  "They  have  been 
kind  to  me  and  given  me  much  happiness." 

"Ai!"  she  acquiesced;  "they  are  good;  we  could  ask 
of  them  nothing  that  they  have  not  given  us.  To- 
morrow we  will  sacrifice  to  them."  And  while  she 
prayed  I  fell  asleep,  having  determined  that,  save  per- 
haps for  an  occasional  visit,  the  East  should  know  me 
no  more. 

The  following  day  the  chiefs  and  leading  men  held  a 
council  and  decided  that  we  should  move  out  to  the 
foot  of  the  Bear's  Paw  Mountains.  Thither  we  went 
across  the  wide,  brown  and  buffalo-covered  plain,  en- 
camping on  a  little  stream  running  down  from  a  pine- 
clad  coule'e,  remaining  there  for  several  days.  There 
were  vast  numbers  of  elk  and  deer  and  bighorn  here, 
and  in  our  morning's  hunt  Wolverine  and  I  killed  four 
fat  ewes,  choosing  the  females  instead  of  the  rams,  as 
the  rutting  season  of  the  sheep  was  nearly  over.  So 
numerous  were  the  bands  of  these  now  scarce  animals 
that  I  doubt  not  we  could  have  slaughtered  twenty  or 
more  of  them  had  we  been  so  minded;  but  we  took  no 
more  than  our  horses  could  carry. 

When  I  returned  to  camp  I  found  Nat-ah'-ki  busily 
chipping  the  hide  of  a  cow  buffalo  I  had  killed.  She 
had  laced  it  to  a  frame  of  four  lodge  poles  and  frozen 
it,  in  which  condition  the  surplus  thickness  of  the  hide 
was  most  easily  removed  with  the  short  elk-horn,  steel- 
tipped  hoe  used  for  the  purpose.  But  even  then  it  was 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  173 

exceedingly  hard,  back-breaking  labour,  and  I  said  that 
I  would  be  pleased  if  she  would  cease  doing  that  kind  of 
work.  I  had  said  something  about  it  on  a  previous 
occasion,  and  this  time,  perhaps,  I  spoke  a  trifle  too 
peremptorily.  She  turned  away  from  me,  but  not  be- 
fore I  saw  the  tears  begin  to  roll  down  her  cheeks. 

"What  have  I  done?"  I  asked.  "I  did  not  mean 
to  make  you  cry." 

"Am  I  to  do  nothing,"  she  in  turn  queried,  "but 
sit  in  the  lodge  in  idleness?  You  hunt  and  provide  the 
meat;  you  buy  from  the  traders  the  various  foods  we 
eat.  You  buy  my  clothes  and  everything  else  I  wear 
and  use.  I  also  want  to  do  something  toward  our  sup- 
port." 

"But  you  do.  You  cook  and  wash  the  dishes,  you 
even  provide  the  firewood.  You  make  my  moccasins 
and  warm  mittens;  you  wash  my  clothes;  when  we 
travel  it  is  you  who  take  down  and  set  up  the  lodge, 
who  pack  and  unpack  the  horses." 

"Yet  am  I  idle  most  of  the  time,"  she  said  brokenly, 
"and  the  women  jest  and  laugh  at  me,  and  call  me 
proud  and  lazy,  lazy!  Too  proud  and  too  lazy  to  work! " 

Thereupon  I  kissed  her  and  dried  her  tears,  and  told 
her  to  tan  as  many  robes  as  she  wanted  to,  taking  care 
not  to  work  too  hard  nor  too  long  at  a  time.  And 
immediately  she  was  all  smiles  and  danced  out  of  the 
lodge;  presently  I  heard  the  monotonous  chuck,  chuck 
of  the  hoe  tip  against  the  stiff  hide. 

One  night  a  dimly  luminous  ring  was  seen  around  the 
moon,  and  the  next  morning  a  brighter  ring  encircled 
the  sun,  while  on  either  side  of  it  was  a  large  sun-dog. 
The  rings  portended  the  arrival  of  a  furious  storm  at  no 
distant  date;  the  rainbow-hued  sun-dogs  gave  certain 
warning  that  the  enemy,  perhaps  a  large  war  party,  was 


i74  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

approaching  our  camp.  This  was  a  bad  combination, 
and  a  council  was  called  to  consider  it.  The  tribe  was 
not  afraid  to  meet  any  enemy  that  might  do  battle  with 
them,  but  it  was  certain  that  in  the  night  of  a  severe 
storm  a  party  could  approach  unseen  and  unheard, 
steal  many  horses,  and  that  the  driving,  drifting  snow 
would  effectually  blot  out  their  trail,  so  that  they  could 
not  be  followed  and  overtaken.  It  was  decided  to  break 
camp  at  once  and  move  to  the  mouth  of  Creek-in-the- 
middle,  on  the  Missouri.  If  much  snow  fell  and  severe, 
cold  weather  set  in  there  would  be  better  shelter  in  the 
deep  valley  of  the  river;  the  horses  could  be  fed  the  rich 
bark  of  the  cottonwood  and  kept  in  prime  condition; 
by  moving  camp  the  certainly  approaching  enemy 
would  probably  never  run  across  our  trail,  especially 
if  the  promised  storm  came  soon.  By  10  o'clock  the 
last  lodge  was  down  and  packed,  and  we  strung  out  east 
by  south  for  our  destination.  At  noon  snow  began  to 
fall.  We  camped  that  night  on  Creek-in-the-middle, 
so  named  because  it  has  its  source  midway  between  the 
Bear's  Paw  and  Little  Rocky  Mountains.  The  early 
voyageurs  named  it  Cow  Creek. 

Snow  was  still  lightly  falling  the  next  morning  and 
it  was  much  colder;  nevertheless,  we  again  broke  camp 
and  moved  on,  arriving  at  the  river  before  dusk.  Here 
we  intended  to  remain  for  some  time,  and  the  hunters 
rode  far  and  near  on  both  sides  of  the  valley  and  out  on 
the  plains  setting  deadfalls  for  wolves.  Strychnine  had 
not  then  come  into  general  use.  These  deadfalls  were 
merely  a  few  six  to  eight  foot  poles  set  up  at  an  angle  of 
about  forty-five  degrees  and  supported  by  a  two-stick 
trigger.  They  were  covered  with  several  hundred- 
weight of  large  stones;  when  the  wolf  seized  the  bait 
at  the  back  end  of  the  fall,  down  came  the  heavy  roof 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  175 

and  crushed  him.  Berry  and  Sorrel  Horse  did  all  they 
could  to  encourage  the  trapping  of  the  animals,  as  a 
large  demand  had  sprung  up  for  their  skins  in  the  States, 
where  they  were  converted  into  sleigh  robes.  Prime 
skins  were  selling  in  Fort  Benton  at  from  $4  to  $5  each. 

The  storm  did  not  amount  to  much,  and  in  a  few  days 
a  warm  chinook  again  set  in.  Nor  did  the  expected 
war  party  appear.  My  friends,  the  traders,  were  doing 
such  a  good  business  that  they  were  obliged  to  go  after 
more  goods  every  two  or  three  weeks,  or  whenever  they 
could  join  a  party  bound  on  a  visit  to  Fort  Benton. 

I  had  heard  much  of  a  certain  white  man  named 
Hugh  Monroe,  or,  in  Blackfoot,  Rising  Wolf — Mah- 
kwo-i-pwo-ahts.  One  afternoon  I  was  told  that  he  had 
arrived  in  camp  with  his  numerous  family,  and  a  little 
later  met  him  at  a  feast  given  by  Big  Lake.  In  the 
evening  I  invited  him  over  to  my  lodge  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  him  while  we  ate  bread  and  meat  and  beans, 
and  smoked  numerous  pipefuls  of  tobacco.  We  even- 
tually became  firm  friends.  Even  in  his  old  age,  Rising 
Wolf  was  about  the  quickest,  most  active  man  I  ever 
saw.  He  was  about  five  feet  six  in  height,  fair-haired, 
blue-eyed,  and  his  firm,  square  chin  and  rather  promi- 
nent nose  betokened  what  he  was,  a  man  of  courage  and 
determination.  His  father,  Hugh  Monroe,  was  a 
colonel  in  the  British  army,  his  mother  a  member  of  the 
La  Roches,  a  noble  family  of  French  emigre's,  bankers 
of  Montreal,  and  large  land  owners  in  that  vicinity. 
Hugh,  Jr.,  was  born  on  the  family  estate  at  Three  Rivers, 
and  attended  the  parish  school  just  long  enough  to  learn 
to  read  and  write.  All  of  his  vacations,  and  many 
truant  days  from  the  class-room,  were  spent  in  the  great 
forest  surrounding  his  home.  The  love  of  nature,  of 
adventure  and  wild  life  was  born  in  him.  He  first  saw 


I76  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  light  in  July,  1798.  In  1813,  when  but  fifteen  years 
of  age,  he  persuaded  his  parents  to  allow  him  to  enter 
the  service  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  and  started 
westward  with  a  flotilla  of  their  canoes  that  spring. 
His  father  gave  him  a  fine  English  smooth-bore,  his 
mother  a  pair  of  the  famous  La  Roche  duelling  pistols 
and  a  prayer  book.  The  family  priest  gave  him  a  rosary 
and  cross,  and  enjoined  him  to  pray  frequently.  Travel- 
ling all  summer  they  arrived  at  Lake  Winnipeg  in  the 
autumn  and  wintered  there.  As  soon  as  the  ice  went  out 
in  the  spring  the  journey  was  continued,  and  one  after- 
noon in  July,  Monroe  beheld  Mountain  Fort,  a  new  post 
of  the  company,  built  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Sas- 
katchewan River,  not  far  from  the  foot  of  the  Rockies. 
Around  about  it  were  encamped  thousands  of  the  Black- 
feet  waiting  to  trade  for  the  goods  the  flotilla  had  brought 
up,  and  to  obtain  on  credit  ammunition,  fukes,  traps, 
and  tobacco  sufficient  to  last  them  through  the  coming 
season.  As  yet  the  company  had  no  Blackfoot  inter- 
preter, their  speech  having  first  to  be  translated  into 
Cree,  and  then  into  English.  Many  of  the  Blackfeet 
proper,  the  North  Blackfeet,  spoke  good  Cree,  but  the 
more  southern  tribes  of  the  confederacy,  the  Bloods  and 
Piegans,  did  not  understand  it.  The  factor,  no  doubt 
perceiving  that  Monroe  was  a  youth  of  more  than  ordin- 
ary intelligence,  at  once  detailed  him  to  live  and  travel 
with  the  Piegans  and  learn  the  language,  also  to  see  that 
they  returned  to  Mountain  Fort  with  their  furs  the  suc- 
ceeding summer.  Word  had  been  received  that,  fol- 
lowing the  course  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  American  traders 
were  yearly  pushing  farther  and  farther  westward,  and 
had  even  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Yellowstone,  about 
the  eastern  line  of  the  vast  territory  claimed  by  the 
Blackfeet  as  their  hunting  ground.  The  company 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  177 

feared  their  competition;   Monroe  was  to  do  his  best  to 
prevent  it. 

"At  last  the  day  came  for  our  departure,"  Monroe 
told  me,  "and  I  set  out  with  the  chiefs  and  medicine 
men  at  the  head  of  the  long  procession.  There  were 
800  lodges  of  the  Piegans  there,  about  8,000  souls.  They 
owned  thousands  of  horses.  Oh,  but  it  was  a  grand 
sight  to  see  that  long  column  of  riders,  and  travois,  and 
pack  animals,  and  loose  horses  trooping  over  the  plains. 
Yes,  'twas  a  grand,  an  inspiring  sight.  We  travelled  on 
and  on  southward  all  the  long  day,  and  about  an  hour  or 
two  before  sundown  came  to  the  rim  of  a  valley  through 
which  flowed  a  fine  cottonwood-bordered  stream.  We 
dismounted  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  spread  our  robes  in- 
tending to  sit  there  until  the  procession  passed  by  into 
the  bottom  and  put  up  the  lodges.  A  medicine  man 
produced  a  large  stone  pipe,  filled  it  and  attempted  to 
light  it  with  flint  and  steel  and  a  bit  of  punk,  but  some- 
how he  could  get  no  spark.  I  motioned  him  to  hand  it 
to  me,  and,  drawing  my  sun-glass  from  my  pocket  I  got 
the  proper  focus  and  set  the  tobacco  afire,  drawing  several 
mouthfuls  of  smoke  through  the  long  stem.  As  one  man, 
all  those  sitting  round  about  sprang  to  their  feet  and 
rushed  toward  me,  shouting  and  gesticulating  as  if  they 
had  gone  crazy.  I  also  jumped  up,  terribly  frightened, 
for  I  thought  they  were  going  to  do  me  harm,  perhaps 
kill  me;  but  for  what  I  could  not  imagine.  The  pipe 
was  wrenched  out  of  my  grasp  by  the  chief  himself,  who 
eagerly  began  to  smoke  and  pray.  He  had  drawn  but  a 
whiff  or  two,  however,  when  another  seized  it  and  from 
him  it  was  taken  by  still  another.  Others  turned  and 
harangued  the  passing  column ;  men  and  women  sprang 
from  their  horses  and  joined  the  group,  mothers  pressing 
close  and  rubbing  their  babes  against  me,  praying 


i78  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

earnestly  meanwhile.  I  recognised  a  word  that  I  had 
already  learned — natos' — Sun;  and  suddenly  the  mean- 
ing of  the  commotion  became  clear;  they  thought  that 
I  was  great  medicine;  that  I  had  called  upon  the  Sun 
himself  to  light  the  pipe,  and  that  he  had  done  so.  The 
mere  act  of  holding  my  hand  up  above  the  pipe  was  a 
supplication  to  their  God.  They  had  perhaps  not  noticed 
the  glass,  or  if  they  did,  had  thought  it  some  secret 
charm  or  amulet.  At  all  events,  I  had  suddenly  become 
a  great  personage,  and  from  then  on  the  utmost  con- 
sideration and  kindness  was  accorded  me. 

"When  I  entered  Lone  Walker's  lodge  that  evening — 
he  was  the  chief,  and  my  host — I  was  greeted  by  deep 
growls  from  either  side  of  the  doorway,  and  was  horrified 
to  see  two  nearly  grown  grizzly  bears  acting  as  if  about 
to  spring  upon  me.  I  stopped  and  stood  quite  still,  but 
I  believe  that  my  hair  was  rising:  I  know  that  my 
flesh  felt  to  be  shrinking.  I  was  not  kept  in  suspense. 
Lone  Walker  spoke  to  his  pets  and  they  immediately 
lay  down,  noses  between  their  paws,  and  I  passed  on  to 
the  place  pointed  out  to  me,  the  first  couch  at  the  chief's 
left  hand.  It  was  some  time  before  I  became  accustomed 
to  the  bears,  but  we  finally  came  to  a  sort  of  understand- 
ing with  one  another.  They  ceased  growling  at  me  as 
I  passed  in  and  out  of  the  lodge,  but  would  never  allow 
me  to  touch  them,  bristling  up  and  preparing  to  fight  if 
I  attempted  to  do  so.  In  the  following  spring  they 
disappeared  one  night  and  were  never  seen  again.  Lone 
Walker  was  disconsolate ;  he  went  about  for  days  hunting 
and  calling  them,  but  in  vain.  It  has  been  said  that  a 
grizzly  cannot  be  tamed ;  those  two  at  least  appeared  to 
be  tame  enough,  seemed  to  have  a  real  liking  for  their 
master,  who  alone  fed  them;  they  were  never  tied  up 
and  followed  the  travois  of  his  family  along  with  the  dogs 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  179 

when  we  moved  camp,  always  sleeping  where  I  first  saw 
them  on  either  side  of  the  doorway." 

Is  there  one  of  us  latter-day  [hunters,  amateur  ex- 
plorers, who  does  not  rejoice  when  he  finds,  far  hidden  in 
some  deep  forest  a  lakelet,  or  in  the  remote  fastnesses  of 
the  mountains  a  glacier,  which  he  is  certain  no  white 
man  has  ever  seen  before,  or  who  climbs  some  hitherto 
unclimbed  and  unnamed  peak,  and  himself  names  it  as 
his  fancy  wills,  a  name  which  is  afterward  accepted  and 
printed  on  the  maps  of  the  Government  survey  ?  Think 
then  how  the  youth,  Rising  Wolf,  must  have  felt  as  he 
journeyed  southward  over  the  vast  plains,  and  under  the 
shadow  of  the  giant  mountains  which  lie  between  the 
Saskatchewan  and  the  Missouri,  for  he  knew  that  he 
was  the  first  of  his  race  to  behold  them.  And  to  enhance 
his  pleasure,  he  was  travelling  with  an  absolutely 
primitive  people;  a  people  many  of  whom  still  used 
flint  arrow  and  spear  points,  and  flint  knives;  a  people 
whose  language  and  customs  no  white  man  understood, 
but  which  he  was  to  learn  in  due  time.  Would  that  we 
could  have  had  that  privilege,  brother!  We  were  born 
a  little  too  late! 

Monroe  often  referred  to  that  first  trip  with  the  Piegans 
as  the  happiest  time  of  his  life.  Journeying  by  easy 
stages,  sometimes  skirting  the  foot  of  the  mountains, 
and  again  traversing  the  broad  plains  forty  or  fifty  miles 
to  the  eastward  of  them,  they  came,  at  the  season  of 
falling  leaves,  to  the  Pile  of  Rocks  River  (Sun  River,  as 
the  whites  named  it) ,  and  there  they  remained  for  three 
months,  passing  the  remainder  of  the  winter  on  the 
Yellow  River  (the  Judith) .  They  had  crossed  Lewis  and 
Clark's  trail,  and  here  again  was  a  vast  region  which  no 
white  man  had  ever  traversed.  When  spring  came,  they 
went  still  further  south  to  the  Musselshell,  down  that  to 


i8o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

its  confluence  with  the  Missouri,  and,  crossing  the  great 
river,  they  wandered  westward  along  the  foot  of  the  Little 
Rockies,  and  thence  by  the  Bear's  Paw  Mountains  to  the 
Marias  and  its  tributaries.  It  had  been  long  since  decided 
that  they  would  not  return  to  Mountain  Fort  until  the 
following  summer.  Rifle  and  pistol  were  now  useless, 
as  the  last  rounds  of  powder  and  ball  had  been  fired.  But 
what  mattered  that  ?  Had  they  not  their  bows  and  great 
sheafs  of  arrows?  After  all,  what  had  the  white  trader 
in  his  stores  absolutely  necessary  to  their  welfare  and 
happiness?  Nothing;  not  even  tobacco,  for  in  the 
spring  they  had  planted  on  the  banks  of  the  Judith  a 
large  patch  of  their  own  Nah-wak'-o-sis,*  which  they 
would  harvest  in  due  time. 

One  by  one  young  Rising  Wolf's  garments  were  worn 
out  and  cast  aside.  The  women  of  the  lodge  tanned 
skins  of  deer  and  bighorn,  and  from  them  Lone  Walker 
himself  cut  and  sewed  shirts  and  leggings,  which  he  wore 
in  their  place.  It  was  not  permitted  for  women  to  make 
men's  clothing.  So  ere  long  he  was  dressed  in  full  Indian 
costume,  even  to  the  belt  and  breech-clout,  and  his 
hair  grew  so  that  it  fell  in  rippling  waves  down  over  his 
shoulders.  He  began  to  think  of  braiding  it.  Ap'-ah-ki, 
the  shy  young  daughter  of  the  chief,  made  his  footwear — 
thin,  parfleche-soled  moccasins  for  summer,  beautifully 
embroidered  with  coloured  porcupine  quills;  thick,  soft, 
warm  ones  of  buffalo  robe  for  winter.  Once,  he  told  me 
the  story  of  this  girl's  and  his  little  romance.  He 
was  a  temperate  man  in  all  things,  but  on  this  particular 
New  Year's  night  he  had  taken  enough  good  hot-spiced 
Scotch  to  make  him  bare  his  inmost  thoughts,  and  I 
doubt  not  that  those  thoughts  were  mostly  of  the  loved 
one  who  was  dead  and  gone. 

*Sce  "Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales"  for  an  account  of  this  narcotic  weed,  and 
the  quaint  ceremonies  attending  the  planting  of  it. 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  181 

"I  could  not  help  but  notice  her,"  he  said,  "on  the 
first  night  I  stayed  in  her  father's  lodge.  She  was  some 
three  years  younger  than  I,  yet  already  a  woman.  Of 
good  height  and  slender  but  well-formed  figure,  comely 
face  and  beautiful  eyes,  long-haired,  quick  and  graceful 
in  all  her  movements,  she  was  indeed  good  to  see.  I  fell 
into  the  habit  of  looking  at  her  when  I  thought  no  one 
was  observing  me,  and  before  long  I  found  that  it  suited 
me  better  to  stay  in  the  lodge  where  I  could  at  least  be 
near  her  than  it  did  to  go  hunting  or  on  discovery  with 
the  men.  I  was  always  increasingly  glad  when  night 
came,  and  I  could  take  my  place  in  the  lodge  opposite 
her.  Thus  the  days  and  weeks  and  months  went  by. 
I  learned  the  language  easily,  quickly;  yet  I  never  spoke 
to  her,  nor  she  to  me,  for,  as  you  know,  the  Blackfeet 
think  it  unseemly  for  youths  and  maidens  to  do  so.  %> 

"One  evening  a  man  came  into  the  lodge  and  began  to 
praise  a  certain  youth  with  whom  I  had  often  hunted; 
spoke  of  his  bravery,  his  kindness,  his  wealth,  and  ended 
by  saying  that  the  young  fellow  presented  to  Lone  Walker 
thirty  horses,  and  wished,  with  Ap'-ah-ki,  to  set  up  a  lodge 
of  his  own.  I  glanced  at  the  girl  and  caught  her  looking  at 
me;  such  a  look!  expressing  at  once  fear,  despair  and 
something  else  which  I  dared  not  believe  I  interpreted 
aright.  The  chief  spoke:  'Tell  your  friend,'  he 
said,  'that  all  you  have  spoken  of  him  is  true;  I  know 
that  he  is  a  real  man,  a  good,  kind,  brave,  generous  young 
man,  yet  for  all  that  I  cannot  give  him  my  daughter.' 

"Again  I  looked  at  Ap'ah-ki,  and  she  at  me.  Now 
she  was  smiling,  and  there  was  happiness  in  her  eyes, 
along  with  that  same  peculiar  expression  which  I  had 
before  noticed.  But  if  she  smiled,  I  could  not,  for  Lone 
Walker's  words  had  killed  any  hope  I  might  have  had 
of  getting  her  some  day  for  my  own.  I  had  heard  him 


x8a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

refuse  thirty  head  of  horses.  What  hope  had  I  then, 
who  did  not  own  even  the  horse  I  rode  ?  I  who  received 
for  my  services  only  £20  a  year,  from  which  must  be 
deducted  the  various  articles  I  bought.  Surely  the  girl 
was  not  for  me.  And  to  make  it  worse,  there  was  that 
peculiar  expression  in  her  eyes  when  she  looked  into 
mine  which,  even  young  and  inexperienced  in  the  ways 
of  women  as  I  was,  I  decided  meant  that  she  cared  for 
me,  even  as  I  did  for  her.  I  suffered. 

"After  that  night  Ap'-ah-ki  no  longer  cast  down  her 
eyes  when  I  caught  her  looking  at  me,  but  returned  my 
gaze  openly,  fearlessly,  lovingly.  We  now  knew  that 
we  loved  each  other.  Time  passed.  Going  out  one 
evening,  she  came  in  just  as  I  reached  the  doorway,  and 
as  we  passed  our  hands  met — and  clasped.  For  an  in- 
stant we  stood  there,  gently  but  firmly  retaining  our 
grasp.  I  trembled.  I  could  feel  her  muscles  also  quiver- 
ing. Then  some  one  called  out,  'Shut  the  doorway;  the 
lodge  fills  with  smoke.'  I  staggered  out  and  sat  down  on 
the  ground.  For  hours  I  sat  there  trying  to  think  of 
some  way  to  accomplish  my  desire,  but  I  could  find  no 
feasible  plan,  and  went  miserably  to  bed.  It  was  a  little 
later,  perhaps  a  couple  of  weeks,  that  I  met  her  in  the 
trail  bringing  home  a  bundle  of  firewood.  We  stopped 
and  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then 
I  spoke  her  name.  Crash  went  the  fuel  on  the  ground, 
and  we  embraced  and  kissed,  regardless  of  those  who 
might  be  looking. 

"  'I  can  stand  this  no  longer,'  I  said  at  last.  'Come 
with  me  now,  now,  to  your  father,  and  I  will  speak  to 
him.' 

"  'Yes,'  she  whispered.  'Yes;  let  us  take  courage, 
and  go  to  him.  He  has  always  been  good  to  me,  and 
perhaps  he  will  be  generous  now.' 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  183 

"So,  forgetting  the  bundle  of  wood,  we  went  hand  in 
hand  and  stood  before  Lone  Walker,  where  he  sat  smok- 
ing his  long  pipe,  out  on  the  shady  side  of  the  lodge.  'I 
have  not  thirty  horses,'  I  said,  'nor  even  one,  but  I  love 
your  daughter,  and  she  loves  me.  I  ask  you  to  give  her 
to  me.' 

"The  chief  smiled.  'Why,  think  you,  did  I  refuse  the 
thirty  horses?'  he  asked,  and  before  I  could  answer  he 
continued,  'Because  I  wanted  you  for  my  son-in-law; 
wanted  a  white  man  because  he  is  more  cunning,  much 
wiser  than  the  Indian,  and  I  need  a  counsellor.  We  have 
not  been  blind,  neither  I  nor  my  women.  We  have  long 
seen  that  this  day  was  coming — have  waited  for  you  to 
speak  the  word.  You  have  spoken;  there  is  nothing 
more  to  say  except  this:  Be  good  to  her." 

"That  very  day  they  set  up  a  small  lodge  for  us  and 
stored  it  with  robes  and  parfleches  of  dried  meat  and 
berries,  gave  us  one  of  their  two  brass  kettles,  tanned 
skins,  pack  saddles,  ropes — all  that  a  lodge  should 
contain.  And,  not  least,  Lone  Walker  told  me  to  choose 
thirty  horses  from  his  large  herd.  In  the  evening  we 
took  possession  of  our  home  and  were  happy." 

The  old  man  paused  and  sat  silent,  thinking  of  the 
old  days. 

"I  know  how  you  felt,"  I  said,  "for  we  are  experi- 
encing the  same  thing." 

"I  know  it,"  he  continued;  "seeing  the  peace  and 
contentment  and  happiness  in  this  lodge,  I  could  not 
help  telling  you  about  my  own  youthful  days." 

After  he  had  gone  I  told  Nat-ah'-ki  all  that  he  had 
said.  It  affected  her  deeply,  for  when  I  had  ended 
I  saw  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she  said  over  and  over  again, 
"Oh,  how  I  pity  him!  Oh,  how  lonely  he  is!" 

The  next  evening  when  he  had  come  in  and  taken  his 


1 84  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

accustomed  seat,  Nat-ah'-ki  went  over  and  kissed  him, 
kissed  him  twice.  "That,"  she  said,  brokenly,  "is  be- 
cause my  man  has  told  me  all  that  you  told  him  last 
night ;  because ' '  but  she  could  say  no  more. 

Rising  Wolf  bent  his  head  and  I  could  see  his  bosom 
heave,  the  tears  dropping  down  his  smooth-shaven 
cheeks.  Perhaps  there  was  a  queer  lump  in  my  throat. 
Presently  he  straightened  up,  gently  laid  his  hands  on 
the  little  woman's  head  and  said,  "I  pray  God  that  you 
may  live  long  and  that  you  may  always  be  as  happy  as 
you  are  now." 

Monroe  remained  in  the  service  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  a  number  of  years,  raising  a  large  family  of 
boys  and  girls,  most  of  whom  are  alive  to-day.  The 
eldest,  John,  is  about  seventy-five  years  of  age,  but  still 
young  enough  to  go  up  in  the  Rockies  near  his  home  every 
autumn  and  kill  a  few  bighorn  and  elk,  and  trap  a  few 
beavers.  The  old  man  never  revisited  his  home;  never 
saw  his  parents  after  the  day  they  parted  with  him  at 
the  Montreal  docks.  He  intended  to  return  to  them  for 
a  brief  visit  some  time,  but  kept  deferring  it,  and  then 
came  letters,  two  years  old,  saying  that  they  were  both 
dead.  Came  also  a  letter  from  an  attorney,  saying  that 
they  had  bequeathed  him  a  considerable  property,  that 
he  must  go  to  Montreal  and  sign  certain  papers  in 
order  to  take  possession  of  it.  At  the  time  the  factor  of 
Mountain  Fort,  was  going  to  England  on  leave;  to  him, 
in  his  simple  trustfulness,  Monroe  gave  a  power  of  at- 
torney in  the  matter.  The  factor  never  returned,  and 
by  virtue  of  the  papers  he  had  signed,  the  frontiersman 
lost  his  inheritance.  But  that  was  a  matter  of  little 
moment  to  him  then.  Had  he  not  a  lodge  and  family, 
good  horses  and  avast  domain  actually  teeming  with  game 
— wherein  to  wander — what  more  could  one  possibly  want  ? 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  185 

Leaving  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  Monroe  some- 
times worked  for  the  American  Fur  Company,  but  mostly 
as  a  "free  trapper"  wandered  from  the  Saskatchev/an 
to  the  Yellowstone,  and  from  the  Rockies  to  Lake 
Winnipeg.  The  headwaters  of  the  South  Saskatchewan 
were  one  of  his  favourite  hunting  grounds.  Thither  in 
the  early  '50*3  he  guided  the  noted  Jesuit  Father, 
De  Smet,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  beautiful  lakes  lying 
just  south  of  Chief  Mountain  they  erected  a  huge 
wooden  cross,  and  named  the  two  bodies  of  water  St. 
Mary's  Lakes.  One  winter  after  his  sons,  John  and 
Francois,  had  married,  they  were  camping  there  for  the 
season,  the  three  lodges  of  the  family,  when  one  night 
a  large  war  party  of  Assiniboins  attacked  them.  The 
daughters,  Lizzie,  Amelia,  and  Mary,  had  been  taught 
to  shoot,  and  together  they  made  a  brave  resistance, 
driving  the  Indians  away  just  before  daylight  with  the 
loss  of  five  of  their  number,  Lizzie  killing  one  of  them 
as  he  was  about  to  let  down  the  bars  of  the  horse  corral. 

Besides  other  furs,  beaver,  fisher,  martin,  and  wol- 
verines, they  killed  more  than  three  hundred  wolves 
that  winter,  by  a  device  so  unique  yet  simple,  that  it  is 
well  worth  recording.  By  the  banks  of  the  outlet  of  the 
lakes  they  built  a  long  pen  twelve  by  sixteen  feet  at  the 
base,  and  sloping  sharply  inward  and  upward  to  a 
height  of  seven  feet;  the  top  of  the  pyramid  was  an 
opening  about  two  and  one-half  feet  wide  by  eight  in 
length.  Whole  deer,  quarters  of  buffalo,  any  kind  of 
meat  handy,  was  thrown  into  the  pen,  and  the  wolves, 
scenting  the  flesh  and  blood,  seeing  it  plainly  through 
the  four  to  six  inch  spaces  between  the  logs,  would 
eventually  climb  to  the  top  and  jump  down  through  the 
opening.  But  they  could  not  jump  out,  and  there 
morning  would  find  them  uneasily  pacing  around  and 


1 86  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

around  in  utter  bewilderment.  Powder  and  ball  were 
precious  commodities  in  those  days,  so  the  trappers 
killed  the  wolves  with  bow  and  arrows,  and  opening 
a  door  at  one  end,  they  allowed  the  coyotes  to  escape. 
The  carcasses  of  the  slain  wolves  were  always  thrown 
into  the  river  as  soon  as  skinned,  so  that  there  should 
be  nothing  of  a  suspicious  nature  about. 

Dear  old  Rising  Wolf!  He  was  always  bemoaning 
the  decadence  of  the  Indians — the  Piegans  in  particular. 
"You  should  have  seen  them  in  the  long  ago,"  he  would 
say;  "such  a  proud  and  brave  people  they  were.  But 
now,  whisky  is  their  curse.  There  are  no  longer  any 
great  chiefs,  the  medicine  men  have  lost  their  power." 

You  will  remember  that  the  old  man  was  a  Catholic. 
Yet  I  know  that  he  had  much  faith  in  the  Blackfoot 
religion,  and  believed  in  the  efficacy  of  the  medicine 
men's  prayers  and  mysteries.  He  used  often  to  speak 
of  the  terrible  power  possessed  by  a  man  named  Old  Sun. 
"There  was  one,"  he  would  say,  "who  surely  talked 
with  the  gods,  and  was  given  some  of  their  myste- 
rious power.  Sometimes  of  a  dark  night,  he  would  in- 
vite a  few  of  us  to  his  lodge,  when  all  was  calm  and  still. 
After  all  were  seated  his  wives  would  bank  the  fire  with 
ashes  so  that  it  was  as  dark  within  as  without,  and  he 
would  begin  to  pray.  First  to  the  Sun,  chief  ruler,  then 
to  Ai-so-pwom-stan,  the  wind-maker,  then  to  Sis-tse-kom, 
the  thunder,  and  Puh-pom',  the  lightning.  As  he  prayed, 
entreating  them  to  come  and  do  his  will,  first  the  lodge 
ears  would  begin  to  quiver  with  the  first  breath  of  a 
coming  breeze,  which  gradually  grew  stronger  and 
stronger  until  the  lodge  bent  to  the  blasts,  and  the  lodge 
poles  strained  and  creaked.  Then  thunder  began  to 
boom,  faint  and  far  away,  and  lightning  to  dimly  blaze, 
and  they  came  nearer  and  nearer  until  they  seemed  to  be 


THE  STORY  OF  RISING  WOLF  187 

just  overhead;  the  crashes  deafened  us,  the  flashes 
blinded  us,  and  all  were  terror-stricken.  Then  this 
wonderful  man  would  pray  them  to  go,  and  the  wind 
would  die  down  and  the  thunder  and  lightning  go  on  rum- 
bling and  flashing  into  the  far  distance  until  we  heard  and 
saw  them  no  more." 

All  this  the  old  man  firmly  believed  that  he  had  heard 
and  seen.  I  cannot  account  for  it,  nor  can  you,  except 
— if  there  be  such  a  thing — the  wily  old  magician  hyp- 
notised his  audiences, 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A   FRIENDLY    VISIT    FROM    THE    CROWS 

IN  THE  days  of  which  I  write  the  Blackfeet  were 
not,  as  they  are  now,  cursed  with  the  different 
forms  of  tuberculosis.  Yet  there  were,  of  course  occa- 
sional cases.  The  wife  of  Four  Horns,  a  young  man  of 
the  Small  Robe  band,  had  it,  and  was  growing  steadily 
worse.  As  the  lodge  of  the  young  couple  was  quite 
near  ours,  we  naturally  saw  much  of  them.  Four  Horns 
was  an  exceedingly  tall,  well-built,  pleasant-featured  man 
of  twenty-eight  or  thirty,  and  his  wife  was  also  good 
looking,  neat  in  person  and  habits,  but  the  disease  had 
sadly  shrunken  her  once  fine  form.  The  man  was  a 
famous  raider,  a  tireless  hunter,  and,  with  what  he  had 
taken  from  the  enemy,  and  by  careful  breeding,  had  ac- 
quired a  large  band  of  horses.  In  his  lodge  were  always 
bundles  of  fine  robes  and  furs,  ready  to  be  bartered  for 
anything  that  was  needed  or  which  took  his  wife's  fancy. 
Nothing  was  too  good  for  his  woman;  he  thought  the 
world  of  her,  and  she  of  him. 

When  the  disease  appeared  a  doctor  was  called  in, 
and  given  a  fee  of  three  horses.  His  medicines  and 
prayers  did  no  good,  however,  and  another  one  was 
tried,  fee,  five  horses,  but  with  like  results.  In  suc- 
cession the  doctors  of  the  whole  tribe  attended  the 
patient,  and  now  the  end  was  near.  The  fine  herd  of 
horses  had  shrunk  to  less  than  a  dozen  head.  Robes, 
furs,  costly  blankets,  and  finery  had  also  been  given  to 
the  doctors.  Late  one  evening  a  messenger  hurriedly 

188 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS     189 

entered  our  lodge:  "You  are  called,"  he  said,  "by 
Four  Horns;  he  bids  you,  both  of  you,  make  haste." 

We  found  the  poor  woman  gasping  for  breath.  Four 
Horns  was  sitting  on  the  couch  beside  her,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands.  An  old  woman,  robe  thrown  over 
her  head,  was  feeding  the  fire.  I  poured  out  a  large 
drink  of  whisky,  added  some  sugar  and  hot  water  to  it, 
and  Nat-ali' -ki  gave  it  to  the  sufferer.  It  revived  her; 
she  soon  breathed  more  easily,  and  then  said  to  me, 
speaking  very  slowly  and  interruptedly:  "Never  in 
all  my  life  have  I  done  a  wrong  thing.  I  have  never 
lied,  nor  stolen,  nor  done  that  which  brings  shame  upon 
a  woman's  parents  and  upon  her.  Yet  our  gods  have 
forsaken  me  and  I  am  near  to  death.  You  have  gods 
as  well  as  we.  I  have  heard  of  them.  The  Maker,  His 
Son,  the  Mother  of  the  Son.  Pray  to  them,  I  beg  you; 
perhaps  they  will  take  pity  and  make  me  well." 

I  cannot  explain,  I  fear,  how  I  felt  upon  hearing  that 
simple  request.  I  wished  that  I  could  grant  it,  and 
knew  that  I  could  not.  How  was  it  possible  for  one  to 
pray  who  had  no  faith?  I  cast  about  in  my  mind  for 
some  excuse ;  for  something  to  say,  for  some  way  to 
explain  my  inability  to  do  it.  I  looked  up  and  found 
Nat-ah'-ki  earnestly,  expectantly  gazing  at  me.  We 
had  talked  about  religion,  the  white  man's  religion, 
several  times,  and  she  knew  that  I  had  no  faith  in  it. 
Nevertheless,  I  could  see  that  she  expected  me  to  do  what 
the  dying  woman  had  requested.  I  made  the  sign  of 
negation;  no.  She  moved  at  once  to  the  side  of  the 
sufferer  and  said:  "I  will  pray  to  those  gods  for  you. 
Long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  a  Blackrobe  and  my 
uncle  taught  me  the  way,"  and  she  began:  "  Ap'-ai-stu- 
to-ki,  kin'-ah-an-on,  etc."  'Twas  the  Lord's  prayer! 
Some  zealous  Jesuit,  perhaps  Father  De  Smet  himself, 


1 90  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

had  translated  it  into  Blackfoot,  and  good  Blackfoot, 
too. 

But  even  as  the  prayer  ended,  a  dark  stream  flowed 
from  the  woman's  mouth,  the  last  and  fatal  hemorrhage. 
"That  which  kills  you,"  cried  Four  Horns,  "shall  kill 
me.  I  follow  you  soon  to  the  Sandhills."  And  bend- 
ing over  he  drank  of  the  blood  flowing  from  his  loved 
one's  lips.  With  one  last  effort  she  clasped  her  thin  arms 
around  his  neck,  and  died.  It  was  a  dreadful  scene. 

"Come,"  I  said  presently,  gently  lifting  him.  "Come 
with  me  to  my  lodge;  the  women  now  have  their  work 
to  do." 

With  one  last,  long  look,  he  arose  and  followed  me. 
I  gave  him  the  guest  couch,  and  handed  him  a  cupful  of 
whisky  which  he  quickly  swallowed.  After  a  time  I 
gave  him  another  cupful ;  worn  out  with  long  watching, 
overcome  by  the  strong  liquor,  he  lay  down  and  I 
covered  him  with  a  robe.  He  slept  soundly  until  after 
noon  the  next  day ;  by  that  time  Nat-ah'-ki  and  others 
had  bound  the  body  in  robes  and  blankets  and  lashed 
it  in  a  tree  somewhere  down  the  river.  I  know  not 
whether  Four  Horns  had  long  before  contracted  the  dis- 
ease, or  if  he  was  infected  there  at  the  woman's  death 
bed.  He  died  of  the  same  dread  scourge  some  six  weeks 
later.  If  there  is  a  Sandhills,  let  us  hope  that  his  shadow 
found  hers,  and  that  together  the  dreariness  of  that 
abode  of  shadows  became  lightened. 

The  uncle  Nat-ah'-ki  had  mentioned  was  a  French 
Creole,  one  of  the  earliest  employees  of  the  American 
Fur  Company.  He  had  married  the  sister  of  her  mother, 
and  had  been  very  kind  to  his  various  relatives.  Nat- 
ah'-ki  had  passed  two  winters  in  his  quarters  at  Fort 
Benton,  and  much  time  in  his  lodge  when  he  travelled 
with  the  tribe.  A  devout  Catholic  himself,  he  had  tried 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS      191 

to  spread  the  doctrine  among  his  adopted  people.  I 
would  have  said  nothing  about  the  prayer  she  had  made, 
but  she  opened  the  subject  an  evening  or  two  later  by 
asking  me  why  I  had  not  done  what  her  dying  friend 
asked  of  me. 

"  How  could  I,  not  believing,  as  I  have  told  you,  that 
which  the  Blackrobes  and  others  tell  us?"  I  asked  in 
turn. 

"Surely,"  she  said,  "if  I  can  believe,  I  who  can  neither 
speak  your  language  nor  read  the  Blackrobe's  sacred 
writings,  then  you  should  be  able  to  do  so,  you  who  can 
understand  it  all." 

"  In  that  very  writing,"  I  explained,  "  the  Maker  says 
that  we  shall  have  no  other  god  than  Him,  and  that  if 
you  pray  to  others  than  Him,  He  will  punish  you  in 
some  fearful  manner.  Therefore,  if  you  do  pray  to 
Him,  you  must  no  longer  pray  to  the  Sun,  or  to  any- 
thing else  whatever." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki,  decidedly,  "I  shall 
pray  to  Him,  and  to  our  gods  also.  That  writing  was 
not  meant  for  us;  only  for  the  white  people.  We  are 
poor;  we  are  like  a  blind  person  feeling  his  way  along 
high  cliffs;  we  need  the  help  of  all  the  gods  we  can  find." 

"Right  you  are,"  I  told  her.  "We  do  need  help; 
pray  to  them  all ;  and  since  I  cannot,  why,  pray  for  me." 

"Ah!"  she  sighed.  "As  if  I  did  not  always  do  so! 
There  is  the  Sun;  you  can  see  him  every  day.  How 
good  he  is,  giving  us  light  and  heat.  Can  you  not  be- 
lieve in  him?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "I  do  believe  in  him,  he  is  the  life 
of  this  earth." 

That  pleased  her,  and  she  went  about  her  work 
happily  singing. 

In  February  we  were  visited  by  a  deputation  from 


1 92  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  Crows,  who  were  wintering  on  Tongue  River,  away 
to  the  south  of  us.  They  came  with  tobacco  and  other 
presents  from  their  chief  to  ours,  and  the  message  that 
their  people  offered  to  make  a  lasting  treaty  of  peace 
with  the  Piegans.  Their  leader  was  one  Rock  Eater, 
half  Crow  and  half  Blackfoot.  His  mother  had  been 
captured  by  the  former  tribe  when  a  young  girl,  and  in 
due  time  became  the  wife  of  her  captor's  son.  Rock 
Eater,  of  course,  spoke  both  languages  perfectly.  The 
envoys  were  well  received,  and  became  guests  of  the 
more  prominent  men.  Their  proposition  was  one  which 
required  mature  deliberation,  and  while  the  chiefs  and 
head  warriors  were  discussing  it,  they  were  feasted  and 
given  the  best  of  everything  in  the  camp.  Rock  Eater 
himself  became  my  guest,  and  many  an  interesting  talk 
I  had  with  him  by  the  evening  fire. 

"Is  your  mother  happy  with  the  Crows?"  I  asked 
him  one  night.  "And  how  do  you  yourself  feel — that 
you  are  Piegan,  or  Crow,  or  both?" 

"It  is  this  way,"  he  replied.  "My  mother  loves  my 
father,  and  I  love  him,  for  he  has  always  been  kind  to  us. 
Generally,  we  are  quite  happy;  but  there  are  times, 
when  a  party  returns  with  Piegan  scalps,  or  horses  taken 
from  them,  boasting  loudly  of  their  victory,  calling  the 
Piegans  cowardly  dogs.  Ah!  then  we  feel  very  sad. 
And  often  the  proud  young  Crows  have  made  fun  of  me, 
and  joked  about  me,  calling  me  bad  names.  Oh!  yes, 
we  are  very  miserable  at  times.  Long  ago  my  mother 
began  to  urge  my  father  to  talk  with  the  chiefs  and  urge 
them  to  make  peace  with  her  people.  I  have  also  long 
been  saying  what  I  could  to  help  the  plan.  But  al- 
ways the  most  of  the  people  would  object.  One  chief 
would  arise  and  say,  'The  Piegans  killed  my  son;  I 
want  revenge,  not  peace.'  Others  would  speak,  crying 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS      193 

out  that  they  had  lost  a  brother,  or  father,  or  uncle,  or 
nephew  in  war  with  the  Piegans,  and  that  they  could 
not  think  of  making  peace.  Not  long  ago  my  father 
again  called  a  council  to  consider  this  question,  and  as 
ever,  he  was  opposed  by  many  of  the  leading  men.  The 
last  speaker  said  this  to  him:  'We  are  tired  of  being 
asked  to  talk  about  making  peace  with  the  Piegans.  If 
you  are  so  anxious  to  be  friendly  with  them,  why  go 
and  live  with  them;  become  a  Piegan  yourself.' 

'"So  I  will,'  cried  my  father  in  anger.  'So  I  will. 
I  will  become  a  Piegan,  and  fight  with  them  against  all 
their  enemies.'  And  so  saying,  he  arose  and  went  home, 
I  following  him. 

"Now,  my  father  is  a  chief  himself;  a  fearless  man 
in  war,  so  kindly  and  generous  that  he  is  loved  by  all 
but  a  few  who  are  jealous  of  his  position.  When  it 
was  learned  what  he  had  said  in  the  council,  the  people 
came  to  him  and  begged  him  to  take  back  his  words; 
also  they  went  to  the  other  chiefs  and  insisted  that  peace 
should  be  declared,  provided  the  Piegans  would  agree 
to  it.  'We  have  had  enough  of  this  war,'  they  said. 
'See  the  widows  and  orphans  it  has  made.  We  have 
our  own  great  country,  covered  with  buffalo,  the  Piegans 
theirs ;  the  two  tribes  can  live  without  killing  one  another. ' 
So,  after  all,  my  father  had  his  way,  and  we  were  sent 
to  you.  I  hope  we  will  carry  Piegan  tobacco  back 
with  us." 

Rock  Eater  was  called  to  a  feast,  and  soon  after  Rising 
Wolf  came  in  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  me.  I  asked  him 
to  tell  me  something  about  the  wars  between  the  two 
tribes.  "Ha!"  he  said,  grimly  laughing;  "I  was  in  one 
of  the  fights,  and  a  sad  day  it  was  to  us.  But  to  begin: 
The  Blackfeet  are  a  northern  people.  They  once  lived 
in  the  Slave  Lake  country.  The  Crees  named  those 


i94  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

lakes  after  them,  because  they  made  slaves  of  the 
enemies  they  captured.  Gradually  they  began  to 
journey  southward  and  came  to  these  great  plains 
abounding  in  game,  where  the  winters  are  mild.  There 
they  found  different  tribes,  Crows,  Assiniboins, 
Shoshones,  and  various  mountain  tribes,  the  Kute- 
nais,  Pend  d'Oreilles,  and  Stonies,  and  drove  all  before 
them,  taking  possession  of  their  country.  There  were 
times  of  peace  between  them  and  these  tribes,  but  mostly 
they  waged  war  upon  them.  In  1832  the  Blackfeet 
made  a  treaty  of  peace  with  the  Crows,  at  Fort  Union, 
which  lasted  only  two  years.  Again,  in  1855,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Judith  River,  at  what  is  known  as  the 
Stevens  treaty  between  the  United  States  and  various 
tribes,  the  Blackfeet,  Crows,  Gros  Ventres,  Pend 
d'Oreilles,  the  Kutenais,  Nez  Percys  and  others  agreed 
to  cease  warring  against  one  another,  and  intruding 
upon  each  other 'shunting  grounds.  The  Musselshell  River 
was  designated  as  the  boundary  separating  Blackfeet 
from  Crow  territory.  In  the  summer  of  1857  the  Crows 
broke  this  agreement  by  raiding  a  camp  of  the  Bloods, 
killing  two  men  and  running  off  a  large  number  of 
horses.  That  reopened  the  old  feud,  the  three  Black- 
feet  tribes,  Bloods,  Piegans  and  Blackfeet  proper, 
making  common  cause  against  the  enemy.  In  the  fall 
of  1858  I  joined  the  Piegans  with  my  family  at  Fort 
Benton,  and  we  went  south  of  the  Missouri  to  winter. 
We  camped  for  a  time  on  the  Judith  River,  and  then 
determined  to  move  over  on  the  Musselshell,  follow  it 
down  by  easy  stages,  and  return  to  the  Missouri  by 
way  of  the  east  slope  of  the  Snowy  Mountains.  About 
noon  of  the  second  day  we  came  to  the  divide  separating 
the  two  streams.  Our  column  was  loosely  scattered 
along  four  or  five  miles  of  the  trail  that  day,  and  most 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS     195 

of  the  hunters  were  behind,  away  to  the  east  and  west, 
skinning  buffalo  and  other  game  they  had  killed;  ahead 
of  us  a  mile  or  so  rode  our  scouts,  some  thirty  or  forty 
men.  It  was  a  warm  day;  the  horses  felt  lazy  as  well 
as  their  riders,  and  the  big  camp  moved  slowly  along 
the  trail,  widely  scattered  as  I  have  said.  The  scouts 
far  ahead,  gave  no  sign  that  they  had  seen  anything  to 
make  them  suspicious.  The  old  people  dozed  in  their 
saddles;  young  men  here  and  there  were  singing  war, 
or  hunting  songs ;  the  mother  crooned  to  the  babe  at  her 
breast;  all  were  happy.  The  scouts  passed  out  of  view 
down  the  south  slope  of  the  gap,  and  the  head  of  our 
column  was  nearing  the  summit,  when  out  from  a  large 
pine  grove  on  our  right  dashed  at  least  two  hundred 
mounted  Crows,  and  fell  upon  us.  Back  turned  the 
people,  the  women  and  old  men  madly  urging  their 
horses,  scattering  travois  and  lodge  poles  along  the 
way,  shrieking  for  help,  calling  on  the  gods  to  preserve 
them.  Such  fighting  men  as  there  were  along  this  part  of 
the  line  did  their  utmost  to  check  the  rush  of  the  Crows, 
to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  weak  and  defenceless.  Hear- 
ing shots  and  shouts,  back  came  the  scouts,  and  from 
the  rear  came  charging  more  men  to  the  front.  But 
in  spite  of  stubborn  resistance  the  Crows  swept  all  before 
them  for  a  distance  of  at  least  two  miles,  strewing  the 
trail  with  our  dead  and  dying  people — men,  women, ' 
children,  even  babies.  They  took  not  one  captive,  but 
shot  and  struck,  and  lanced  to  kill,  scalping  many  of 
their  victims.  But  at  last  the  Piegans  bunched  up  in 
some  sort  of  order,  and  the  Crows  drew  off  and  rode 
away  to  the  south,  singing  their  songs  of  victory,  taunt- 
ing us  by  waving  in  triumph  the  scalps  they  had  taken. 
So  badly  had  our  people  been  stampeded,  so  stunned 
were  they  by  the  terrible  calamity  that  had  befallen 


196  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

them,  that  they  simply  stood  and  stared  at  the  retreat- 
ing enemy,  instead  of  following  them  and  seeking 
revenge. 

"Right  there  in  the  gap  the  lodges  were  pitched,  and 
search  for  the  dead  and  missing  begun.  By  night  all 
the  bodies  had  been  recovered  and  buried.  On  every 
hand,  in  nearly  every  lodge,  there  were  mourners  cutting 
their  hair,  gashing  their  lower  limbs,  crying  and  wailing, 
calling  over  and  over  again  by  the  hour  the  names  of 
the  loved  ones  they  had  lost.  Yes,  it  was  a  camp  of 
mourning.  For  weeks  and  months,  when  evening  came, 
the  wailing  of  the  mourners,  sitting  out  in  the  darkness 
just  beyond  the  circle  of  the  lodges,  was  pitiful  to  hear. 
It  was  a  very  long  time  before  singing  and  laughter, 
and  the  call  of  the  feast-giver  were  again  heard.  I 
happened  to  be  with  the  scouts  that  day,  and  when 
we  charged  back  did  my  best  with  them  to  check  the 
Crows.  But  they  so  far  outnumbered  us,  had  so  de- 
moralised the  people  by  their  unexpected  and  fierce 
assault,  that  we  were  well-nigh  powerless  until  our  men 
in  the  rear  came  up.  More  than  half  of  the  scouts 
were  killed.  I  got  an  arrow  in  the  left  thigh.  In  all, 
one  hundred  and  thirteen  Piegans  were  killed,  while 
we  shot  down  but  seven  of  the  enemy. 

"After  this  happened,  you  may  be  sure  that  most 
of  the  war  parties  leaving  the  Piegan  camp  headed  for 
the  Crow  country,  and  from  the  north  came  parties  of 
their  brothers,  the  Blackfeet  and  Bloods  to  harass  the 
common  enemy.  In  the  course  of  two  or  three  years 
they  killed  enough  members  of  the  Crow  tribe,  and  drove 
off  sufficient  numbers  of  their  horse  herds,  to  more  than 
offset  their  own  losses  in  the  massacre  and  in  later 
fights — for,  of  course,  our  war  parties  were  not  always 
victorious. 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS     197 

"In  the  spring  of  1867  the  Gros  Ventres — then  at 
war  with  the  Blackfeet  tribes — concluded  a  treaty  with 
the  Crows,  and  there  was  a  great  gathering  of  them  all 
on  lower  Milk  River,  to  celebrate  the  event.  A  party 
of  young  Gros  Ventres  returning  from  a  raid  against 
the  Crees  brought  word  that  they  had  seen  the  Piegan 
camp  in  the  Divided — or,  as  the  whites  called  them, 
Cypress — Hills.  This  was  great  news.  The  Crows  had 
a  long  score  to  settle  with  their  old-time  enemy.  So 
also  felt  the  Gros  Ventres.  Although  they  had  for  a 
very  long  time  been  under  the  protection  of  the  Black- 
feet,  who  fought  their  battles  for  them,  and  protected 
them  from  their  bitter  foes,  the  Assiniboins  and 
Yanktonais,  they  had  no  gratitude  in  their  make-up, 
and  had  quarrelled  with  their  benefactors  over  a  trivial 
cause.  And  now  for  revenge!  What  could  the  Piegans 
do  against  their  combined  forces?  Nothing.  They 
would  kill  off  the  men,  capture  the  women,  seize  the 
rich  and  varied  property  of  the  camp.  So  sure  were 
they  of  success,  that  they  had  their  women  accompany 
them  to  sort  out  and  care  for  the  prospective  plunder. 

"From  a  distant  butte  the  war  party  had  seen  the 
Piegan  camp,  but  had  not  discovered  that  just  over  a 
hill  to  the  west  of  it,  not  half  a  mile  further,  the  Bloods 
were  encamped  in  force,  some  fi^e  thousand  of  them, 
or  in  all  about  one  thousand  fighting  men.  No,  they 
hadn't  seen  that,  and  so  one  morning  the  Crows  and 
Gros  Ventres  came  trailing  leisurely  over  the  plain 
toward  the  Piegan  camp  all  decked  out  in  their  war 
costumes,  the  plumes  of  their  war  bonnets  and  the  eagle 
feather  fringe  of  their  shields  fluttering  gaily  in  the  wind. 
And  with  them  came  their  women  happily  chattering, 
already  rejoicing  over  the  vast  store  of  plunder  they 
were  going  to  possess  that  day.  An  early  hunter  from 


198  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

{MM 

the  Piegan  camp,  going  with  his  woman  after  some  meat 
he  had  killed  the  previous  day,  discovered  the  enemy 
while  they  were  still  a  mile  and  more  away,  and  hurried 
back  to  give  the  alarm,  sending  one  of  his  women  on 
to  call  out  the  Bloods.  There  was  a  great  rush  for 
horses,  for  weapons;  some  even  managed  to  put  on  a 
war  shirt  or  war  bonnet.  Luckily  it  was  early  in  the 
morning  and  most  of  the  horse  herds,  having  been  driven 
in  to  water,  were  feeding  nearby.  If  a  man  did  not 
at  once  see  his  own  band,  he  roped  and  mounted  the 
first  good  animal  he  came  to.  And  thus  it  happened 
that  when  the  attacking  party  came  tearing  over  the 
little  rise  of  ground  just  east  of  the  camp  they  were 
met  by  such  an  overwhelming  force  of  determined  and 
well-mounted  men  that  they  turned  and  fled,  firing 
but  few  shots.  They  were  utterly  panic-stricken;  their 
only  thought  was  to  escape.  Better  mounted  than 
their  women,  they  left  these  defenceless  ones  to  the 
mercy  of  the  enemy,  seeking  only  to  escape  themselves. 
"From  the  point  of  meeting  a  fearful  slaughter  began. 
Big  Lake,  Little  Dog,  Three  Suns,  and  other  chiefs  kept 
shouting  to  their  men  to  spare  the  women,  but  a  few 
were  killed  before  they  could  make  their  commands 
known.  There  was  no  mercy  shown  to  the  fleeing  men, 
however;  they  were  overtaken  and  shot,  or  brained 
with  war  clubs.  So  sudden  had  been  the  call  that  many 
men  had  found  no  time  to  select  a  swift  horse,  mounting 
anything  they  could  rope,  and  these  soon  dropped  out 
of  the  race;  but  the  others  kept  on  and  on,  mile  after 
mile,  killing  all  the  men  they  overtook  until  their  horses 
could  run  no  more  and  their  club  arms  were  well-nigh 
paralysed  from  striking  so  long  and  frequently.  Few 
of  the  fleeing  party  made  any  resistance  whatever,  never 
turned  to  look  backward,  but  bent  forward  in  the  saddle 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS      199 

and  plied  the  quirt  until  they  were  shot  or  clubbed  from 
their  seats.  For  miles  the  trail  was  strewn  with  the 
dead  and  dying,  through  which  fled  their  women, 
shrieking  with  terror — the  women  they  had  brought 
to  care  for  their  plunder.  'Let  them  go!'  cried  Big 
Lake,  laughing.  'Let  them  go!  We  will  do  as  did  Old 
Man  with  the  rabbits,  leave  a  few  for  to  breed,  so  that 
their  kind  may  not  become  wholly  extinct.' 

"A  count  was  made  of  the  dead.  Only  five  of  the 
Blackfeet  had  lost  their  lives,  and  a  few  been  wounded. 
But  along  the  trail  over  which  they  had  so  confidently 
marched  that  morning  three  hundred  and  sixty  Crows 
and  Gros  Ventres  lay  dead.  Many  of  them  were  never 
touched,  for  the  victors  had  become  tired  of  cutting 
and  scalping.  Their  arms  were  taken,  however,  and 
in  many  cases  their  war  costumes  and  ornaments,  and 
then  the  two  camps  moved  westward  a  way,  leaving 
the  battlefield  to  the  wolf  and  coyote. 

"As  you  know,  the  Gros  Ventres  asked  for  peace, 
and  are  again  under  the  protection  of  our  people.  And 
now  come  these  messengers  from  the  Crows.  Well, 
we  will  see  what  we  will  see."  And  bidding  us  sleep 
well,  Rising  Wolf — I  never  could  call  him  Monroe — 
went  home. 

When  Berry  was  in  camp,  or  anywhere  within  a 
reasonable  distance  of  it,  the  Piegans  did  no  business 
without  consulting  him,  and  they  always  took  his  ad- 
vice. He  was  really  their  leader;  their  chiefs  deferred 
to  him,  relied  upon  him,  and  he  never  failed  to  advise 
that  which  was  for  their  best  interests.  So  now  he 
was  called  to  attend  the  council  to  consider  the  Crow 
proposal,  and  I  went,  too,  under  his  wing  as  it  were. 
I  wanted  to  hear  the  speeches.  The  Crow  delegation, 
of  course,  was  not  present.  Big  Lake's  lodge  was  well 


200  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

filled  with  the  chiefs  and  leading  men  of  the  tribe, 
including  the  younger  heads  of  the  different  bands  of 
the  All  Friends  Society.  Among  them  I  noticed  mine 
enemy,  Little  Deer,  who  scowled  at  me  when  I  entered. 
He  was  beginning  to  get  on  my  nerves.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  impatiently  looked  forward  to  the  day  when 
we  would  have  it  out,  being  possessed  of  a  sort  of  un- 
reasoning belief  that  I  was  fated  some  day  to  send  his 
shadow  to  the  Sandhills. 

Big  Lake  filled  his  big  stone  pipe,  a  medicine  man 
lighted  it,  made  a  short  prayer,  and  then  it  was  passed 
back  and  forth  around  the  circle.  Three  Suns  opened 
the  subject  for  consideration  by  saying  that  he  and  his 
band,  the  Lone  Eaters,  favoured  the  making  of  a  peace 
treaty  with  their  old  enemy.  He  had  no  sooner  finished 
than  Little  Deer  began  an  impassioned  harangue.  He 
should  have  been  one  of  the  last  to  speak,  older  and 
men  of  higher  position  having  precedence  over  the 
younger;  but  he  thrust  himself  forward.  Nevertheless, 
he  was  listened  to  in  silence.  The  Blackfeet  are  ever 
dignified,  and  pass  over  without  remark  any  breach 
of  tribal  manners  and  etiquette.  In  the  end,  however, 
the  transgressor  is  made  in  many  ways  to  pay  the  penalty 
for  his  bad  conduct.  Little  Deer  said  that  he  represented 
the  Raven  Carrier  band  of  the  great  society,  and  that 
they  wanted  no  peace  with  the  Crows.  Who  were  the 
Crows  but  murderers  of  their  fathers  and  brothers; 
stealers  of  their  herds?  As  soon  as  green  grass  came, 
he  concluded,  he  and  his  friends  would  start  on  a  raid 
against  the  people  of  the  Elk  River  (Yellowstone),  and 
that  raid  would  be  repeated  again  and  again  while 
summer  lasted. 

One  after  another  each  one  had  his  say,  many  declaring 
for  a  peace  treaty,  a  few — and  generally  the  younger 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS     201 

men — voicing  Little  Deer's  sentiments.  I  remember 
especially  the  speech  of  an  ancient,  blind,  white-haired 
medicine  man.  "Oh,  my  children!"  he  began,  "Oh, 
my  children!  Hear  me;  listen  understandingly.  When 
I  was  young  like  some  of  you  here,  I  was  happiest 
when  raiding  the  enemy,  killing  them,  driving  off  their 
horses.  I  became  rich.  My  women  bore  me  four  fine 
sons;  my  lodge  was  always  filled  with  good  food,  fine 
furs.  My  boys  grew  up,  and  oh,  how  proud  of  them 
I  was.  They  were  so  strong,  so  active,  such  good  riders 
and  good  shots.  Yes,  and  they  were  so  kind  to  me  and  to 
their  mothers.  'You  shall  hunt  no  more,'  they  com- 
manded. 'You  grow  old;  sit  you  here  by  the  lodge  fire 
and  smoke  and  dream,  and  we  will  provide  for  you.' 
I  was  happy,  grateful.  I  looked  forward  to  many  pleas- 
ant winters  as  I  aged.  Hai-ya!  One  after  another 
my  handsome  sons  went  forth  to  war,  and  one  after 
another  they  failed  to  return.  Two  of  my  women  were 
also  killed  by  the  enemy;  another  died,  and  she  who 
remains  is  old  and  feeble.  I  am  blind  and  helpless; 
we  are  both  dependent  on  our  friends  for  what  we  eat 
and  wear,  and  for  a  place  by  the  lodge  fire.  This  is 
truly  a  most  unhappy  condition.  But  if  there  had  been 
no  war — ai!  If  there  had  been  no  war,  then  this  day 
I  would  be  in  my  own  lodge  with  my  children  and  grand- 
children, and  my  women,  all  of  us  happy  and  content. 
What  has  happened  will  happen  again.  You  who  have 
talked  against  peace,  think  hard  and  take  back  your 
words.  What  war  has  done  to  me,  it  surely  will  do  to 
some  of  you." 

When  the  old  man  finished,  nearly  every  one  in  the 
lodge  cried  "Ah!"  "Ah!"  in  approval  of  his  speech. 
Big  Lake  then  spoke  a  few  words:  "I  was  going  to 
make  a  talk  for  peace,"  he  said,  "but  our  blind  friend 


203  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

has  spoken  better  than  I  could ;  his  words  are  my  words. 
Let  us  hear  from  our  friend  the  trader  chief." 

"  I  say  with  you,"  Berry  agreed,  "  that  the  old  man's 
talk  is  my  talk.  Better  the  camp  of  peace  and  plenty 
than  the  mourning  of  widows  and  orphans  out  in  the 
darkness  beyond  the  fires.  Let  us  make  peace." 

"It  shall  be  peace!"  said  Big  Lake.  "Only  six  of 
you  here  have  talked  against  it,  and  you  are  far  out- 
numbered. I  shall  tell  the  Crow  messengers  that  we 
will  meet  their  people  at  Fort  Benton  in  the  sarvis  berry 
moon,  and  there  make  friends.  I  have  said.  Go  you 
forth." 

We  went  our  several  ways;  I  to  my  lodge,  where  I 
found  Rock  Eater  talking  with  Nat-ah'-ki.  I  saw  at 
once  that  she  was  excited  about  something,  and  as  soon 
as  I  had  told  our  friend  the  decision  of  the  council,  she 
began:  " See  what  we  have  discovered.  His  mother," 
pointing  at  Rock  Eater,  "is  my  mother's  cousin,  my 
relative;  he  is  my  relative.  How  queer  it  is;  became 
into  our  lodge  a  stranger,  and  we  discover  that  he  is  of 
our  blood,  our  very  own  family !  And  you  say  that  we 
are  to  meet  the  Crows  when  the  sarvis  berries  ripen. 
Oh,  I  am  glad;  glad!  How  pleased  my  mother  will 
be  to  see  her  whom  we  thought  was  dead.  Oh,  we  will 
be  good  to  her.  We  will  make  her  forget  all  that  she 
has  suffered." 

I  reached  over  and  shook  hands  with  Rock  Eater. 
"  Friend  and  relative,"  I  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  this 
news." 

And  indeed  I  was  glad.  I  had  taken  a  strong  liking 
to  the  young  man,  who  in  his  plain  and  simple  way  had 
told  us  of  his  sufferings  and  humiliations  among  a  partly 
alien — one  may  say  wholly  alien — people,  for,  after  all, 
the  mother's  kin,  and  not  the  father's,  are  almost 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS     203 

invariably  the  chosen  kin  of  the  offspring  of  a  marriage 
between  members  of  different  tribes  or  nations. 

The  All  Friends  Society  gave  a  dance  in  honour  of 
the  visitors,  a  Parted  Hair,  or  Sioux  dance,  which  was 
indeed  a  grand  and  spectacular  performance.  Not  to 
be  outdone,  the  Crows  decided  to  give  one  of  their  own 
peculiar  dances,  one  called,  I  believe,  the  Dog  Feast 
dance.  But  at  the  very  mention  of  it,  the  Piegans  sud- 
denly lost  all  interest.  Not  but  that  they  wanted  to 
see  the  dance ;  they  were  anxious  to  see  it.  The  hitch 
was  about  the  dog.  To  them  it  was  a  sacred  animal, 
never  to  be  killed,  nor  worse  still,  to  be  used  as  an  article 
of  food.  Dreading  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  none  of  them 
even  dared  to  give  the  visitors  one,  knowing  that  it 
would  be  killed  and  eaten.  I  solved  the  problem  by 
buying  one  of  an  old  woman,  pretending  that  I  wanted 
it  for  a  watch  dog,  and  then  giving  it  to  the  Crows. 
'Twas  a  large,  fat,  ancient  dog,  well-nigh  toothless, 
purblind  and  furred  like  a  wolf.  The  Crows  led  it 
down  into  the  timber  by  the  river,  and  when  next  I  saw 
it,  it  was  hanging  in  a  tree,  dressed  and  scraped,  its  skin 
as  white  and  shiny  as  that  of  a  newly  butchered  pig. 
The  next  day  they  wanted  a  kettle  in  which  to  stew  the 
dog,  and  no  one  dared  loan  one  for  such  a  purpose. 
Again  I  went  to  the  rescue,  "borrowed"  two  empty 
five-gallon  alcohol  cans  from  Berry  and  donated  them. 
In  these  the  dog  meat  was  cooked  to  perfection. 

These  Crows  had  about  the  handsomest  war  costumes 
I  ever  saw.  Every  eagle  tail  feather  of  their  head- 
dresses was  perfect,  and  the  hanging  part  of  them 
swept  the  ground  at  their  heels.  Their  shirts  and  leggings 
were  elegantly  fringed  with  weasel  skins,  scalp  locks 
and  buckskin,  and  embroidered,  as  were  their  belts  and 
moccasins,  with  complex  designs  in  perfectly  laid 


204  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

porcupine  quills  of  gorgeous  colours.  The  steaming  cans 
of  dog  meat  were  carried  to  a  level,  open  place  between 
the  camp  and  the  river,  and  placed  by  a  freshly 
built  fire.  Two  of  the  Crows  began  to  beat  a  drum,  and 
the  dance  began,  an  immense  crowd  having  gathered 
around  in  a  great  circle  to  see  it.  No  one  cared  to  go 
near  the  cans  of  forbidden  food.  As  I  remember  it 
through  all  these  years,  the  dance  song  was  very  different 
from  any  the  Blackfeet  sing,  but  the  dance  step,  a  for- 
ward spring  on  one  foot  and  then  the  other,  body  slightly 
inclined  forward,  was  like  that  of  the  Parted  Hairs. 
Forth  and  back  they  danced,  now  to  the  right,  again  to 
the  left,  every  little  while  circling  completely  around 
the  fire  and  the  cans,  arms  and  hands  extended,  as  if 
they  were  blessing  the  food.  After  dancing  the  circle 
there  was  a  rest,  during  which  a  pipe  was  smoked,  and 
then  the  dance  was  repeated.  The  performance  lasted 
about  an  hour,  and  then  the  party  removed  the  cans 
from  the  fire  and  prepared  to  feast  on  their  contents. 
In  less  than  two  minutes  the  last  Piegan  had  left  the 
vicinity,  some  of  the  women  badly  nauseated  at  the 
thought  of  eating  such  proscribed  food. 

After  remaining  with  us  a  couple  of  days  longer,  the 
Crows  prepared  to  depart,  and  many  a  present  was  given 
them  for  themselves  and  for  their  chief.  They  carried 
about  ten  pounds  of  tobacco  as  a  token  that  the  Piegans 
accepted  their  overtures  of  peace,  also  a  handsome 
black  stone  pipe,  a  present  from  Big  Lake  to  their  head 
chief.  Then  they  were  given  a  number  of  horses,  fine 
blankets,  parfleches  of  choice  dried  meat  and  skins  of 
pemmican.  Nat-ah'-ki  had  her  little  herd  run  in.  "  My 
horses  are  your  horses,"  she  said  to  me.  "Give  Rock 
Eater  that  four-year-old  black."  I  did  so.  Then  she  got 
together  some  things  for  his  mother — a  new  four-point 


s 

<u 
a 

<u 

"Sb 


FRIENDLY  VISIT  FROM  THE  CROWS     205 

blanket,  a  blue,  trade-cloth  dress,  various  paints  and 
trinkets,  and  lastly  a  lot  of  food  for  the  traveller.  Rock 
Eater  could  hardly  speak  when  he  was  leaving. 
Finally  he  managed  to  say.  "  These  days  here  with  you 
have  been  happy.  I  go  from  you,  my  good  and  generous 
relatives,  only  to  meet  you  soon  with  my  mother.  She 
will  cry  with  joy  when  she  hears  the  words  you  send  her 
and  receives  these  fine  presents."  And  so  they  rode 
away  across  the  bottom  and  over  the  ice-bound  river, 
and  we  turned  to  our  everyday  affairs. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A    RAID    BY    THE    CROWS 

A  BIG  chinook  wind  in  the  latter  end  of  February 
cleared   the  river  of  ice,  and  the  little  snow  in 
the  coulees  soon  melted  away.     There  was  no  more 
cold  weather  thereafter,  grass   showing    green   in    the 
bottom  lands  in  March. 

Life  in  camp  was  generally  tranquil.  One  night  some 
Assiniboins  stole  forty  head  of  horses,  and  were  not 
overtaken,  although  a  large  party  followed  their  trail 
eastward  as  far  as  Hairy  Cap  butte.  Their  coup  stick, 
a  long  arrow,  to  which  was  tied  a  large  scalp,  was  found 
sticking  in  the  ground  in  the  heart  of  our  camp  the 
morning  after  the  theft,  causing  the  people  much 
chagrin.  It  was  practically  a  message  from  the  enemy, 
reading  something  like  this:  "We  present  you  with  a 
scalp,  which  we  tore  from  the  head  of  a  member  of  your 
tribe.  We  have  taken  some  of  your  horses.  We  are 
Assiniboins,"  for  the  tribe  was  known  by  the  peculiar 
make  of  the  arrow.  "They  will  hear  from  us  as  soon  as 
summer  comes,"  said  the  young  men.  The  Blackfeet 
did  not  often  start  on  raids  in  cold  weather.  On  the 
other  hand,  Assiniboin  war  parties  seemed  to  prefer 
the  most  inclement  months  of  winter  for  their  expedi- 
tions. They  were  a  very  cowardly  people,  and  realised 
that  they  ran  less  risk  of  being  discovered  and  made  to 
fight  at  a  time  when  the  enemy  went  abroad  only  to 
hunt  in  the  vicinity  of  camp. 

I  shall  never  forget  another  morning,  when,  for  a 

a  06 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  207 

few  moments,  it  seemed  as  if  we  all  must  face  a  terrible 
death.  The  evening  before  a  vast  herd  of  buffalo  had 
been  discovered  two  or  three  miles  back  from  the  river — 
a  herd  so  large  that  it  was  said  the  valley  of  Cow  Creek 
and  the  hills  on  each  side  of  it  were  black  with  them  as 
far  as  one  could  see.  Soon  after  sunrise  many  hunters, 
with  their  women  following  on  travois  horses,  had  gone 
out  to  run  this  herd  and  get  meat.  An  hour  or  so  later 
they  charged  in  among  them  on  their  trained  runners, 
splitting  the  herd  in  such  a  way  that  about  a  thousand 
or  more  broke  straight  down  the  valley  toward  the 
camp.  This  was  the  part  of  the  herd  that  they  chased, 
for  the  nearer  to  camp  the  killing  was  done  the  easier 
it  was  to  pack  in  the  meat.  Down  the  valley  the  fright- 
ened animals  fled,  followed  by  their  tenacious  pursuers. 
We  in  camp  heard  the  thunder  of  their  hoofs  and  saw 
the  cloud  of  dust  they  raised,  before  the  animals  them- 
selves came  in  sight.  Our  lodges  were  pitched  on  the 
lower  side  of  the  bottom,  between  the  creek  and  the 
steep,  bare,  rocky  ridge  to  the  east.  Every  man,  woman, 
and  child  of  us  had  hurried  outside  to  witness  the  chase, 
for  it  was  not  every  day  that  we  had  such  an  oppor- 
tunity. It  was  really  far  more  exciting  to  see  such  a 
run  near  at  hand  than  to  take  part  in  it.  When  one 
mounted  his  runner  and  flung  into  the  thick  of  the  herd, 
he  saw  only  the  particular  animals  he  chased  and  shot 
or  shot  at;  he  had  not  time  nor  sense  for  anything  else. 
But  the  spectator  of  the  run  saw  much.  First  of  all, 
he  was  impressed  with  the  mighty  power  of  the  huge, 
shaggy,  oddly  shaped  beasts  charging  madly  by  him 
with  a  thunderous  pounding  of  hoof  and  rattle  of  horns, 
causing  the  ground  to  tremble  as  if  from  an  earthquake ; 
and  then  to  see  the  hunters,  their  long  hair  streaming  in 
the  wind,  guiding  their  trained  mounts  here  and  there 


ao8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

in  the  thick  of  it  all,  singling  out  this  fat  cow  or  that 
choice  young  bull,  firing  their  guns  or  leaning  over  and 
driving  an  arrow  deep  into  the  vital  part  of  the  great 
beast ;  to  see  the  plain  over  which  they  passed  become 
dotted  with  the  dead,  with  great  animals  standing  head 
down,  swaying,  staggering,  as  the  life  blood  flowed  from 
mouth  and  nostrils,  finally  crashing  over  on  the  ground, 
a  limp  and  lifeless  heap.  Ah!  that  was  a  sight!  That 
is  what  we,  standing  by  our  lodges,  saw  that  morning. 
No  one  cheered  the  hunters,  nor  spoke,  nor  laughed. 
It  was  too  solemn  a  moment.  We  saw  death  abroad; 
huge,  powerful  beasts,  full  of  tireless  energy,  suddenly 
stricken  into  so  many  heaps  of  senseless  meat  and  hide. 
Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  the  Blackfeet  reverenced, 
spoke  with  awe  of,  regarded  as  "medicine"  or  sacred, 
these  animals  which  they  killed  for  food,  whose  hides 
furnished  them  with  shelter  and  clothing. 

A  band  of  horses  drinking  at  the  river  became  fright- 
ened at  the  noise  of  the  approaching  herd.  They 
bounded  up  the  bank  and  raced  out  over  the  bottom, 
heads  and  tails  up,  running  directly  toward  the  herd, 
which  swerved  to  the  eastward,  crossed  the  creek,  and 
came  tearing  down  our  side  of  it.  The  rocky  ridge 
hemming  in  the  bottom  was  too  steep  for  them  to  climb 
with  anything  like  speed,  so  they  kept  on  in  the  flat 
directly  toward  the  lodges.  Such  a  scampering  as  en- 
sued! Some  in  their  terror  ran  wildly  around,  stopping 
behind  one  lodge  a  moment,  then  running  to  the  shelter 
of  another.  Women  screamed,  children  bawled,  men 
shouted  words  of  advice  and  command.  I  seized  hold 
of  Nat-ah'-ki,ran  with  her  over  to  one  of  Berry's  wagons, 
and  got  her  up  in  it.  In  a  moment  both  his  and  Sorrel 
Horse's  wagons  were  filled  with  people,  others  crouching 
under  and  standing  in  lines  behind  them.  Persons  in 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  209 

the  vicinity  of  the  ridge  clambered  up  among  the  rocks. 
Those  near  the  creek  jumped  down  in  it,  but  many 
stood  helplessly  behind  their  lodges  in  the  centre  of  the 
camp.  Now,  the  leaders  of  the  herd  reached  the  outer 
edge  of  the  village.  They  could  not  draw  back,  for 
those  behind  forced  them  forward,  and  they  loped  on, 
threading  their  way  between  the  lodges,  nimbly  jumping 
from  side  to  side  to  avoid  them,  kicking  out  wickedly 
at  them  as  they  passed.  For  all  his  great  size  and  un- 
couth shape,  the  buffalo  was  an  animal  quick  and  active 
on  his  feet. 

I  had  taken  shelter  behind  one  of  the  wagons  with 
many  others  and  watched  the  brown,  living  stream  surge 
by,  winding  in  and  out  between  the  lodges  as  a  river 
winds  past  the  islands  and  bars  in  its  channel.  Not  one 
of  us  but  was  frightened ;  we  held  our  breath  in  anxious 
suspense,  for  we  well  knew  that  almost  anything — the 
firing  of  a  gun  or  sight  of  some  suspicious  object  ahead — 
might  throw  the  herd  into  confusion,  and  if  it  turned  or 
bunched  up  in  a  compact  mass,  people  would  surely 
be  trampled  to  death  by  them,  lodges  overturned,  the 
greater  part  of  camp  reduced  to  irreparable  ruin.  To 
us  it  seemed  a  very  long  time,  but  in  reality  no  more 
than  a  couple  of  minutes  elapsed  ere  the  last  of  the  herd 
had  passed  out  beyond  the  outer  lodges  into  the  river 
and  across  it  to  the  opposite  side.  No  one  had  been 
hurt,  not  a  lodge  had  been  overturned.  But  long  scaf- 
folds of  drying  meat,  many  hides  and  pelts  of  various 
animals  pegged  out  on  the  ground  to  dry,  had  either 
disappeared  or  been  cut  into  small  fragments.  That, 
indeed,  was  an  experience  to  be  remembered;  we  were 
thankful  to  have  escaped  with  our  lives.  When  we 
thought  what  would  have  happened  had  we  got  in 
the  way  of  the  rushing  herd,  we  shuddered.  When 


2io  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Nat-ah'-ki  said:  "How  good  was  the  Sun  to  keep  us 
unharmed  through  this  great  danger,"  I  am  sure  that  she 
voiced  the  sentiment  of  all.  The  next  day  I  noticed 
that  the  trees  and  high  bushes  bordering  the  river  were 
bright  with  the  people's  offerings  or  sacrifices  to  their 
god.  They  gave  always  of  their  best,  their  choicest  and 
most  prized  ornaments  and  finery. 

The  winter  was  now  gone.  Berry  and  Sorrel  Horse 
started  for  Fort  Benton  with  their  families  and  the  last 
loads  of  their  winter's  trade.  They  had  done  exceedingly 
well,  and  concluded  to  remain  for  a  time  at  the  fort. 
Berry  declared  that  he  would  do  no  more  freight- 
ing to  the  mines  with  his  bull  train;  he  would  either 
sell  it  or  employ  some  one  as  a  train-master.  The 
Piegans  still  had  a  large  number  of  prime  robes,  wolf 
pelts,  and  other  skins  on  hand,  which  they  were  to  trade 
at  the  fort,  but  instead  of  going  there  direct,  they 
decided  to  circle  southward,  up  the  Judith  River, 
thence  around  to  the  north  by  way  of  Arrow  Creek  and 
the  foot  of  the  Highwood  Mountain.  I  went  with  them, 
agreeing  to  meet  Berry  at  the  fort  and  plan  with  him  for 
the  ensuing  season's  trade. 

So,  one  warm,  sunny  day  in  the  end  of  March,  camp 
was  broken,  and  crossing  the  wide,  shallow  ford  of  the 
river  at  Cow  Island,  we  climbed  the  south  slope  of  the 
valley  and  strung  out  over  the  plain.  At  such  times 
Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  frequently  dropped  behind  and  rode 
along  a  mile  or  more  to  the  right  or  left  of  the  trail  on 
little  side  hunts.  We  were  free  to  do  this,  for  the  good 
mother  and  her  uncle's  family  took  charge  of  our  pack 
and  travois  horses,  and  herded  them  along  with  their 
own.  And  when  we  came  to  camp  in  the  evening  we 
would  find  our  lodge  put  up,  the  couches  made,  wood 
and  water  at  hand,  the  tireless  mother  sitting  by  the  fire 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  211 

awaiting  our  arrival.  Sometimes  Nat-ah'-ki  would 
remonstrate  with  her  for  doing  all  this,  but  she  would 
always  say,  "Young  people  should  be  happy.  This 
my  mother  did  for  me  when  I  was  newly  married.  Some 
day  you  will  likely  be  doing  it  for  your  daughter." 
Which  latter  remark  would  cause  the  little  woman  to 
turn  away  in  confusion,  and  she  would  pretend  to  be 
very  busy  about  something.  Alas!  they  thought  that 
this  care-free  life  was  going  to  last  forever.  Even  we 
white  men  little  dreamed  how  soon  the  buffalo  were  to 
disappear. 

On  this  lovely  morning  we  rode  gradually ,  slowly  and 
obliquely  away  to  the  west  until  we  were  a  couple  of 
miles  from  the  trail.  Still  farther  out  we  could  see 
several  hunters  now  and  then,  as  they  passed  over  a  rise 
of  ground,  and  occasionally  the  long  column  of  the 
moving  camp  was  in  sight.  Sometimes  we  loitered, 
letting  our  horses  feed  as  they  walked,  and  again  we 
would  start  them  into  a  lope  and  keep  it  up  until  we 
were  well  abreast  of  the  others.  Nat-ah'-ki  kept  up  a 
ceaseless  chatter  of  gossip  and  story  and  questions  about 
the  country  from  which  I  came.  She  was  ever  wanting 
to  know  about  the  ways  of  white  women,  good  and  bad, 
and  when  I  told  some  of  the  things  I  had  known,  had 
seen  the  bad  ones  do,  she  would  be  horrified  and  say 
over  and  over  again,  "Terrible,  shameless!  No  Black- 
foot  woman  would  ever  act  like  that." 

Along  toward  noon  we  came  to  the  head  of  a  pine-clad 
coulee  running  into  the  far-away  Judith,  and  in  a  little 
grove  there  was  a  small  spring  of  clear,  cold  water. 
We  drank,  and  then  leading  our  animals  up  to  the  top 
of  the  slope,  where  we  could  obtain  a  good  view  of  the 
surrounding  country,  we  ate  our  lunch  of  bread,  depuyer, 
and  dried  meat.  A  kit  fox  came  trotting  over  the  bench 


aia  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

opposite  us,  ran  down  the  slope  into  the  grove  and  to 
the  spring,  and  presently  came  out  on  our  side,  sniffing 
the  air,  undoubtedly  having  scented  our  food.  It 
walked  up  to  within  thirty  feet  of  us,  stopped  and  stared 
at  us  and  the  grazing  horses,  then  circled  around  and 
finally  stretched  out  on  its  belly,  head  up,  watching  us 
intently,  and  frequently  sniffing  the  air,  curiously  work- 
ing its  slender,  delicately  contoured  nose.  It  was  evi- 
dently reasoning  like  this,  "There  is  something  to  eat 
over  by  those  strange-looking  animals.  I'll  wait  here  a 
while,  and  nose  around  the  place  after  they  leave."  At 
least,  that  is  what  Nat-ah'-ki  said  the  little  creature  was 
thinking,  and  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  in  such  matters 
she  generally  knew  whereof  she  spoke.  "Did  I  ever 
tell  you,"  she  asked,  "about  my  grandfather  and  his  pet 
fox?  No?  Well  then,  listen: 

"One  night  my  grandfather's  dream  commanded  him 
to  catch  a  kit  fox,  tame  it,  and  be  kind  to  it.  He  thought 
long  over  this,  and  counselled  with  others  as  to  its  mean- 
ing; but  none  could  understand  it  any  more  than  he. 
The  next  night  his  dream  told  him  the  same  things,  and 
again  on  the  third  night,  and  lastly  on  the  fourth  night. 
Four  times  his  dreams  commanded  him  to  do  this.  Four 
is  the  sacred  number.  When  he  arose  the  fourth  morn- 
ing he  knew  that  he  must  obey  his  dream.  He  no  longer 
asked  why,  nor  what  was  meant,  but  after  eating  went 
out  to  catch  a  fox.  There  were  many  foxes;  every 
little  way  as  he  walked  he  saw  them  running  onward  or 
sitting  by  their  dens,  into  which  they  disappeared  as  he 
drew  near.  He  had  a  long  lariat,  to  an  end  of  which 
he  had  tied  a  length  of  fine  buckskin  string.  Making  a 
running  noose  of  the  string,  he  would  lay  it  in  a  circle 
around  the  entrance  to  the  den,  then  go  back  as  far  as 
the  lariat  extended  and  lie  down,  to  watch  for  the  ani- 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  213 

mals.  If  one  poked  its  head  out,  he  would  jerk  the 
lariat,  and  the  noose  would  tighten  around  its  neck  or 
body.  In  this  way  children  catch  ground  squirrels — 
he  had  done  it  himself  in  youthful  days — and  he  believed 
that  in  like  manner  he  could  capture  a  fox. 

"These  animals  have  more  than  one  entrance  to  their 
den,  often  as  many  as  five  or  six.  If  my  grandfather  set 
the  noose  around  a  hole  into  which  he  saw  a  fox  go,  the 
animal  was  certain  to  look  out  from  another  opening, 
and  seeing  him  lying  there  near  by,  would  dodge  back 
and  appear  no  more,  even  though  he  waited  a  long  time. 
Thus  passed  the  first  day,  and  also  the  second.  On 
the  evening  of  the  third  he  noosed  one,  but  with  a  snap 
of  its  sharp  teeth  it  cut  the  string  and  escaped.  Tired 
and  thirsty,  and  hungry,  he  was  returning  home  that 
evening,  when  on  the  side  of  a  coulee  he  saw  five  young 
foxes  playing  near  the  entrance  to  their  den,  the  mother 
and  father  sitting  nearby  watching  them.  They  were 
very  small ;  so  young  that  they  were  not  quick  and  active 
on  their  feet,  but  tumbled  over  each  other  slowly  and 
awkwardly.  He  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
coulee  and  watched  them  until  the  sun  set  and  night 
came  on.  Over  and  over  he  asked  himself  how  he 
could  catch  one  of  the  young.  He  prayed,  too,  calling 
upon  the  gods,  upon  his  dream,  to  show  him  the  way. 

"Returning  to  his  lodge,  he  ate  and  drank  and  filled 
and  lighted  his  pipe,  again  praying  for  help  in  that  which 
he  had  to  do.  And  suddenly,  as  he  sat  there  silently 
smoking,  the  way  was  shown  him.  The  gods  had  taken 
pity  on  him.  He  went  to  bed  and  slept  well.  '  Go  out 
and  find  a  large  buffalo  shoulder-blade,'  he  said  to  my 
grandmother,  after  the  morning  meal,  'then  take  a  cow- 
skin  and  accompany  me.' 

"They  went  to  the  den  of  young  foxes.     Very  close 


2i4  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

to  the  place  where  the  little  ones  played  was  a  large 
bunch  of  rye  grass,  and  in  the  centre  of  it  my  grand- 
father began  to  cut  away  the  sod,  to  loosen  the  earth 
with  his  knife.  My  grandmother  helped  him,  using  the 
shoulder  blade  as  a  white  man  does  his  shovel,  removing 
the  earth  and  piling  it  on  the  cowskin,  then  carrying  the 
load  away  and  scattering  it  in  the  bottom  of  the  coulee. 
They  worked  and  worked,  cutting  and  digging,  and 
scraping,  until  the  hole  was  deep  enough  for  my  grand- 
father to  stand  in.  His  eyes  were  even  with  the  top  of 
the  ground,  the  fringe  of  rye  grass  still  standing  made  a 
good  screen ;  the  foxes  might  scent  him,  but  they  could 
not  see  him.  'Go  home,'  he  said  to  my  grandmother, 
when  they  had  finished  their  work.  'Go  home  and 
make  a  sacrifice  to  the  Sun,  and  pray  that  I  may  succeed 
in  that  which  I  have  to  do.' 

"Then  he  got  into  the  hole  and  stood  very  still,  wait- 
ing, watching  for  the  little  ones  to  come  out.  Long  he 
waited;  the  sun  seemed  to  travel  very  slowly  down  to- 
ward the  mountains.  It  was  very  hot ;  he  became  very 
thirsty ;  his  legs  ached,  but  he  stood  as  motionless  as  the 
ground  itself,  always  watching.  A  little  while  before 
sunset  an  old  one  came  out,  and  walked  half  way  around 
the  rye  grass  bunch.  Then,  suddenly,  it  scented  him, 
and  ran  swiftly  away  up  the  coulee,  not  daring  to  return 
whence  the  wind  had  warned  it  of  some  danger,  unseen, 
but  more  to  be  feared  for  that  very  reason.  Soon  after- 
ward the  little  ones  came  forth,  one  by  one,  slowly  and 
lazily,  yawning  and  stretching  themselves,  blinking  their 
eyes  in  the  strong  light.  They  began  to  play,  as  they 
had  done  on  the  previous  evening,  and  before  long  they 
gathered  in  a  scuffle  at  the  edge  of  the  rye  grass.  Then 
my  grandfather  quickly  reached  out,  and  seized  one  by 
the  back  of  the  neck.  'Hai-ya',  little  brother,'  he  cried, 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  215 

'I  have  caught  you.'  Climbing  out  of  the  hole  he  wrapped 
it  in  a  fold  of  his  robe  and  hurried  to  his  lodge.  He  was 
happy.  Four  times  his  dream  had  spoken  to  him;  on 
the  fourth  day  he  had  fulfilled  its  command.  He  felt 
sure  that  in  some  way  the  taking  of  the  fox  was  to  be 
for  his  good. 

"Puh'-po-kan  (dream)  my  grandfather  named  the 
little  animal.  For  the  very  beginning  it  had  no  fear 
of  him,  and  soon  made  friends  with  the  dogs  of  the  lodge. 
An  old  bitch  loved  it  at  once,  and  if  any  strange  dog 
came  nosing  around  where  it  was  she  would  drive  the 
stranger  away.  The  fox  ate  readily  the  bits  of  meat  my 
grandfather  gave  it,  and  learned  to  drink  water  and  soup. 
He  forbade  anyone  to  pet  it,  or  feed  it,  or  call  it  by  name, 
so  it  was  friendly  only  with  him.  It  wanted  to  follow 
him  wherever  he  went,  and  at  night  would  crawl  under 
the  robes  and  sleep  beside  him.  When  camp  was  moved, 
it  had  a  little  nest  in  a  travois  load,  where  it  would  lie 
quite  still  to  the  journey's  end.  It  was  such  a  funny 
tittle  one ;  always  wanting  to  play  with  my  grandfather 
or  with  the  lodge  dogs;  and  when  it  got  scared  at  any- 
thing it  would  run  to  him,  making  short,  gasping,  hoarse 
little  barks,  just  as  we  hear  them  at  night  out  beyond 
the  lodges.  I  did  so  want  to  play  with  it,  take  it  up  in 
my  arms  and  pet  it,  but  always  my  mother  would  say: 
'Don't  you  dare  do  it;  'tis  a  sacred  one,  and  if  you  touch 
it  something  dreadful  will  happen  to  you.  Perhaps  you 
would  go  blind.' 

"As  it  grew  older  it  would  wander  around  at  times 
during  the  night  until  chased  by  some  dog,  and  then  it 
would  rush  in  and  crawl  into  bed  beside  my  grandfather. 
Not  a  mouse  wandered  in  under  the  lodge-skin  but  Puh'- 
po-kan  had  found  and  killed  it,  and  often  he  would  bring 
home  a  bird  or  ground  squirrel.  About  the  time  when 


216  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Puh'-po-kan  had  seen  two  winters,  we  were  camping  on 
the  Little  River,  just  north  of  the  Bear's  Paw  Mountains. 
One  night,  after  the  lodge  fires  had  all  died  out  and 
everyone  was  asleep,  Puh'-po-kan  awoke  my  grandfather 
by  backing  up  against  his  head  and  barking  in  a  way  it 
had  when  scared.  'Stop  that,'  said  my  grandfather, 
reaching  up  and  giving  the  little  one  a  light  slap.  'Stop 
barking  and  go  to  sleep.' 

"But  Puh'-po-kan  would  not  stop;  instead  he  barked 
harder  than  ever,  trembling  because  he  was  so  excited. 
My  grandfather  raised  up  on  his  elbow  and  looked 
around.  The  moon  was  shining  down  through  the 
smoke-hole,  so  that  he  could  make  out  the  different  ob- 
jects in  the  lodge ;  over  by  the  doorway  there  was  some- 
thing that  did  not  belong  there;  a  dark,  motionless 
object  that  looked  like  a  person  crouching.  'Who  are 
you  ?'  he  asked.  'What  do  you  want  here ? ' 

"No  answer. 

"Then  my  grandfather  spoke  again:  'Tell  me  quickly, 
who  you  are.  Get  up  and  talk,  or  I  will  shoot  you." 

"Still  there  was  no  answer.  Puh'-po-kan  kept 
on  barking.  My  grandfather  quietly  reached  out  for 
his  gun,  which  lay  at  the  head  of  his  bed,  cocked  it  with- 
out noise,  aimed  and  fired  it.  With  a  fearful  scream  a 
man — for  such  the  object  proved  to  be — sprang  up  and 
fell  dead  right  in  the  hot  ashes  and  coals  of  the  fire-place, 
from  whence  my  grandfather  quickly  dragged  him.  Of 
course  the  shot  aroused  the  camp,  and  the  screams  of 
the  frightened  women  in  my  grandfather's  lodge  brought 
every  one  to  it.  A  fire  was  quickly  built  and  the  light 
showed  that  the  dead  one  was  an  enemy  of  a  far-away 
tribe,  a  Sioux.  He  had  no  weapon  except  a  big  long 
knife,  still  firmly  gripped  in  his  right  hand.  Evidently 
he  had  entered  the  lodge  intending  to  steal  a  gun,  and 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  217 

would  have  stabbed  anyone  who  interfered  with  him. 
When  the  fox  gave  warning  of  his  presence,  he  most 
likely  thought  that  by  remaining  crouched  to  the  ground 
he  would  not  be  discovered,  and  that  those  aroused 
would  soon  again  fall  asleep.  He  seemed  to  have 
come  to  the  camp  alone,  for  no  trace  of  others  could  be 
found,  no  horses  were  stolen. 

"All  the  talk  in  camp  was  about  the  fox,  and  my 
grandfather's  dream.  It  was  all  great  medicine.  And 
my  grandfather,  how  pleased  he  was.  He  made  many 
sacrifices,  prayed  much,  and  loved  Puh'-po-kan  more 
than  ever.  Two  more  winters  the  little  one  lived,  and 
then  one  summer  night  it  was  bitten  by  a  rattlesnake 
and  soon  died.  The  women  wrapped  the  swollen  little 
body  in  robes  and  buried  it  on  a  scaffold  they  made 
in  a  cottonwood  tree,  just  as  if  it  had  been  a  person." 

I  recinched  our  saddles.  Nat-ah'-ki  spread  the  re- 
mains of  our  lunch  on  a  smooth  flat  stone.  "Eat 
heartily,  little  brother,"  she  said.  We  mounted  and 
rode  away,  and  looking  back  we  saw  the  fox  busily 
chewing  a  piece  of  dried  meat.  Later  in  the  afternoon 
we  arrived  in  camp,  which  had  been  pitched  near  a 
small  lake  on  the  high  plateau.  The  water  was  bad, 
but  drinkable  when  made  into  tea.  We  used  buffalo 
chips  for  fuel.  In  the  evening  I  was  invited  to  a  feast 
given  by  Big  Lake.  Rising  Wolf,  was  also  a  guest 
along  with  a  number  of  other  staid  and  sober  men. 
Young  men  seldom  feasted  and  smoked  with  their 
elders,  and  in  the  camp  were  many  coteries,  or  social 
sets,  just  as  we  find  them  in  any  civilised  community, 
with  the  exception  that  there  was  no  jealousy  nor  rivalry 
between  them;  no  one  of  them  felt  that  its  members 
were  in  anyway  better  than  the  members  of  another  set. 

We  had  smoked  but  one  pipe',  I  remember,  when  a 


ai8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

young  man  bounced  in  through  the  doorway,  and  said: 
"A  war  party  of  many  men  is  near  us." 

"Ah!"  all  exclaimed,  and  then  Big  Lake,  "Quick! 
tell  us  about  it." 

"I  was  hunting,"  said  the  young  man,  "and  tied  my 
horse  to  a  bunch  of  sage  while  I  crept  up  to  a  band  of 
antelope.  Perhaps  I  did  not  tie  him  securely;  he  got 
loose  and  ran  away  on  his  back  trail  and  I  started  back 
afoot.  At  sundown  I  came  to  the  top  of  a  ridge  and 
could  see  our  camp,  and  over  on  another  ridge  near  the 
Judith  I  saw  at  least  fifty  men.  Saw  them  climb  up 
and  stand  on  its  summit.  They  must  have  discovered 
our  camp,  by  the  smoke  from  the  lodge  fires,  if  nothing 
more.  I  waited  until  it  was  so  dark  that  they  could 
not  see  me,  and  then  hurried  in.  They  will  certainly 
raid  our  horses  to-night. 

"Scatter  out  through  camp  all  of  you,"  said  Big 
Lake,  quickly  and  decisively.  "Tell  the  men  to  come 
here  at  once,  warn  the  women  not  to  scream  or  cry  or 
run.  Hurry!" 

I  went  home  and  told  Nat-ah'-ki  the  news,  removed 
the  cover  of  my  rifle,  and  filled  my  coat  pockets  with  car- 
tridges. "Wait!"  she  said,  grasping  the  gun  barrel. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Why,  Big  Lake  told  us  to  meet  at  his  lodge,"  I 
explained.  "He  has  some  good  plan,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  he  is  wise,"  she  agreed,  "but  you  are  not  going 
out  there  to  be  killed  by  a  war  party.  Stay  here  with 
me." 

"But  our  horses.  I  cannot  remain  here  in  the  lodge 
and  let  the  enemy  run  them  off." 

"They  do  not  matter.     Let  them  go." 

"But,"  I  said,  "if  I  remained  here  think  what  people 
would  say.  They  would  call  me  a  coward,  they  would 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  219 

say  to  you:  'Your  white  man  has  a  woman's  heart; 
why  don't  you  make  some  dresses  for  him?'  " 

That  ended  the  argument.  She  just  sat  down  on 
the  couch,  covered  her  head  with  a  shawl,  and  thus  I 
left  her.  I  will  acknowledge  that  I  did  not  go  forth  with 
a  mad  desire  for  battle.  The  cheerful  lodge  fire,  the 
restful  couch  and  the  long-stemmed  pipe  were  dear  to 
all  save  the  rash  young  man  whose  only  thought  was 
of  war.  Big  Lake  was  a  born  tactician.  In  the  few 
moments  required  to  assemble  the  men  around  his  lodge 
he  had  thought  out  his  plan  of  defence,  and  issued  his 
orders  in  a  few  words.  The  various  bands  of  the  All 
Friends  Society  were  told  off  into  four  groups,  and 
ordered  to  steal  quietly  out  to  the  north,  south,  east, 
and  west  of  camp  and  there  await  the  arrival  of  the 
enemy.  All  others  not  of  the  society  were  to  go  with 
any  one  of  the  bands  they  chose.  It  was  not  feared 
that  a  war  party  of  fifty  or  of  even  three  times  that 
number  would  make  an  attack  on  camp.  They  came, 
of  course,  to  steal  horses,  and  the  plan  was  to  go  out 
where  the  herds  were  grazing  and  lie  in  wait.  The 
really  valuable  animals  were  all  tethered,  as  usual, 
near  the  lodges  of  their  owners,  and  passing  by  the  herds 
of  common  horses,  the  enemy  would  try  to  get  in  to 
them,  cut  their  ropes  and  lead  them  away  one  by  one, 
and  by  twos  and  threes. 

With  the  Crazy  Dogs  and  Raven  Carriers  I  moved 
out  with  thirty  or  forty  others  who,  like  myself,  be- 
longed to  no  organisation.  We  spread  out  in  a  wide 
line,  and  after  walking  slowly  and  silently  for  about 
half  a  mile,  word  was  passed  to  stop,  whereupon  we  sat 
down  in  the  cover  of  the  sage  and  grease-wood  brush. 
There  was  a  moon,  low  down  in  the  western  sky,  and 
due  to  set  about  midnight,  so  it  was  not  very  dark; 


220  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

we  could  see  quite  plainly  the  brush  forty  or  fifty  yards 
distant.  We  remained  there  quietly  a  long  time.  The 
man  nearest  me  on  the  right  slowly  crawled  over  and 
sat  beside  me. 

"The  night  light  is  about  to  go  out  of  sight,"  he 
whispered.  "The  war  party  will  appear  somewhere 
soon,  if  they  come  at  all  to-night." 

He  spoke  truly,  for  a  little  later  we  heard  indistinctly 
away  out  beyond,  a  murmur  of  voices.  Then  there  was 
silence,  and  then  with  soft  tread  and  harsh  swish  of 
brush  against  their  leggings,  the  raiders  came  into  view, 
unsuspectingly  advancing,  some  of  them  to  their  death. 
Some  one  on  my  left  fired  first,  and  then  the  whole  line 
shot  an  irregular  volley.  How  the  sparks  of  the  cheap 
black  powder  glowed  and  sparkled  as  they  spouted 
from  fuke  and  rifle  into  the  darkness.  The  flashes 
blinded  us  for  a  moment,  and  when  we  could  see  again 
the  enemy  were  running  away.  They  had  fired  a  num- 
ber of  shots  in  answer  to  ours,  but  as  we  afterward 
found,  not  one  of  their  bullets  had  hit  any  of  us.  Al- 
most as  one  man  our  line  sprang  forward,  with  cries  of 
"Now,  Crazy  Dogs!  Now,  Raven  Carriers!  Take  cour- 
age; we  must  wipe  them  out."  Here  were  bodies,  five 
of  them,  and  one  with  life  still  in  it.  Thud  went  a  war 
club  and  the  recumbent  figure  sprawled  out,  face  up, 
in  the  waning  moonlight.  In  a  trice  the  dead  were 
scalped,  their  arms  taken  by  those  who  first  came  to 
them.  On  sped  our  party,  an  occasional  shot  was  fired 
at  a  dimly  seen  retreating  figure.  Behind  us  now  came 
the  three  other  divisions  of  the  camp,  shouting  words 
of  encouragement.  But  now  no  enemy  could  be  seen, 
nor  heard,  and  our  party  stopped ;  it  was  useless  to  look 
further  for  them  in  the  darkness.  Big  Lake  came  up. 
"Spread  out,"  he  said,  "spread  out  again  and  encircle 


A  RAID  BY  THE  CROWS  aai 

the  camp.  Perhaps  some  of  them  are  concealed  in  the 
brush  closer  in,  and  with  daylight  we  will  find  them." 

I  shouldered  my  rifle  and  went  home.  Nat-ah'-ki 
was  sitting  up  with  her  mother  for  company  and  I 
related  all  that  had  occurred. 

"Why  did  you  come  back?"  she  asked,  after  I  had 
finished.  "Why  didn't  you  stay  out  there  with  the  rest 
as  Big  Lake  ordered?" 

"  Hai-yah ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  How  peculiar  are  women ; 
one  may  not  understand  them.  You  begged  me  this 
evening  to  remain  here  with  you.  I  came  back  because 
I  am  tired  and  hungry,  and  sleepy,  and  now  you  are 
displeased  because  I  returned.  Well,  to  please  you 
I'll  go  back  and  sit  with  the  others  until  morning." 

"Sit  down,  crazy  man,"  she  said,  pushing  me  back 
on  the  couch  from  which  I  had  started  to  rise.  "You 
will  stay  right  there.  Here  is  your  pipe ;  fill  it  and  smoke 
while  I  broil  some  meat  and  make  tea." 

"  You  are  the  chief,"  I  said  to  her,  contentedly  leaning 
back  against  a  willow  mat.  "  It  shall  be  as  you  say." 

Ah,  me!  Roll  them  back,  you  ruthless  harvester 
of  the  years.  Give  back  to  me  Nat-ah'-ki  and  my 
youth.  Return  to  us  our  lodge  and  the  wide,  brown, 
buffalo  plains, 


CHAPTER  XIX 
NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING 

AT  DAYLIGHT  an  unusual  stir  and  confusion  in  camp 
awoke  us,  and  Nat-ah'-ki  went  out  to  learn  what  it 
was  all  about.  She  soon  returned  with  the  news  that  our 
enemy  of  the  night  proved  to  be  Crows,  that  the  bodies 
of  seven  in  all  had  been  found,  and  that  they  had 
succeeded  in  running  off  seventy  or  more  horses.  A 
large  party  had  already  started  in  pursuit  of  them,  and 
we  were  not  to  break  camp  until  they  returned.  I 
arose  and  dressed  betimes,  had  breakfast,  and  went 
visiting.  Turning  into  Weasel  Tail's  lodge  I  found 
him  nursing  a  gash  in  the  thigh,  where  a  Crow  bullet 
had  creased  him.  I  sat  with  him  a  long  time,  while 
other  visitors  came  and  went.  All  were  calling  the 
Crows  any  bad  name  their  language  contained,  but 
unfortunately  or  fortunately,  some  may  say,  in  this  line 
their  speech  was  exceedingly  limited.  The  very  best 
they  could  do  was  to  call  their  enemy  dog  faces  and 
present  them  to  the  Sun,  begging  him  to  destroy  them. 

I  went  on  to  the  lodge  of  the  chief,  where  I  found 
many  of  the  principal  men  assembled.  "I  for  one." 
Big  Lake  was  saying  when  I  entered,  "  will  talk  against 
making  peace  with  the  Crows  so  long  as  I  live.  Let  us 
all  agree  never  to  smoke  their  tobacco.  Let  us  teach 
our  children  that  they  are  like  the  rattlesnake,  always 
to  be  killed  on  sight." 

The  visitors  heartily  agreed  to  this,  and  I  may  say 
here  that  they  kept  their  word,  sending  party  after 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  223 

party  against  their  Yellowstone  enemies  until  the  Gov- 
ernment interfered  and  put  a  stop  to  inter-tribal  war. 
The  last  raid  occurred  in  the  summer  of  1885. 

There  was  much  scalp  dancing  during  the  day,  par- 
ticipated in  by  those  who  had  lost  most  recently  husband 
of  father  or  some  other  relative  in  battle  with  the  Crows. 
This  was  not,  as  has  been  often  luridly  pictured,  a  spec- 
tacular dance  of  fierce  exultation  and  triumph  over  the 
death  of  their  enemy.  As  performed  by  the  Blackfeet, 
it  was  a  truly  sad  spectacle.  Those  participating  in  it 
blackened  their  faces,  hands,  and  moccasins  with  char- 
coal, and  wore  their  meanest,  plainest  clothes.  An 
aged  man  held  the  scalp  of  the  enemy  tied  to  a  willow 
wand  in  front  of  him,  and  the  others  ranged  in  line  on 
each  side.  Then  they  sang  a  low  and  very  plaintive 
song  in  a  minor  key,  which  to  me,  at  least,  seemed  to 
express  more  sorrow  over  the  loss  of  their  kin  than  it 
did  joy  for  the  death  of  the  enemy.  On  this  occasion 
there  were  seven  scalps,  seven  parties  dancing  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  camp  at  once,  and  one  band  of  mourners 
after  another  took  their  turn,  so  that  the  performance 
lasted  until  night.  There  was  really  no  dancing  about 
it,  the  singers  merely  stooping  slightly  and  rising  in 
time  to  the  song. 

The  pursuing  party  returned  at  dusk,  having  failed 
to  overtake  the  enemy.  Some  were  for  starting  at  once 
on  a  raid  into  the  Crow  country,  but  there  was  now 
little  ammunition  in  camp  and  it  was  decided  that  we 
should  push  on  to  Fort  Benton  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible.  After  obtaining  a  good  supply  of  powder 
and  ball  there,  the  war  party  could  turn  back  south- 
ward. Four  or  five  days  later  camp  was  pitched  in 
the  big  bottom  opposite  the  Fort,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I 
crossed  the  river,  and  wended  our  way  to  the  little 


224  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

adobe  house.  There  we  found  Berry,  his  wife  and 
mother,  and  the  good  Crow  Woman.  What  a  happy 
lot  they  were,  those  women,  as  they  bustled  around  and 
got  in  each  other's  way  trying  to  get  supper  ready. 
And  I  am  sure  Berry  and  I  were  happy  too.  We  did 
not  say  much  as  we  stretched  out  on  a  buffalo-robe 
lounge  and  smoked,  but  words  are  often  superfluous. 
It  was  all  good  enough  for  us,  and  each  knew  that  the 
other  so  felt.  Berry  had  got  my  mail  out  of  the  office 
and  there  it  lay  on  the  table,  a  few  letters,  a  bushel 
or  more  of  papers  and  magazines.  I  read  the  letters, 
but  the  rest  mostly  remained  unopened.  I  had  lost  all 
interest  in  States'  affairs. 

In  the  evening  Berry  and  I  went  down  to  the  Fort  for 
a  while,  and,  of  course,  we  called  in  at  Keno  Bill's 
place.  As  usual,  at  that  time  of  year,  the  town,  if  it 
could  be  so  called,  was  full  of  people,  traders  and  trap- 
pers, bull-whackers  and  mule-skinners,  miners  and  In- 
dians, all  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  steamboats  which 
had  long  since  left  St.  Louis,  and  were  soon  due  to 
arrive.  Every  table  in  Keno's  place  was  so  crowded 
with  players  that  one  couldn't  edge  in  to  watch 
a  game.  Keno  himself  and  two  assistants  were 
busy  behind  the  bar,  as  the  kegs  still  held  out  despite 
the  heavy  draught  on  them  during  the  winter  months. 
There  were  even  a  few  bottles  of  beer  left.  I  gladly  paid 
a  dollar  and  four  bits  for  one  of  them,  and  Berry  helped 
me  drink  it. 

We  went  into  the  Overland  Hotel  for  a  moment  on 
our  way  home,  and  there  among  other  guests  I  saw  a 
man  whom  I  thought  to  be  a  preacher;  at  any  rate,  a 
white  tie  adorned  his  blue-flannel  shirt  front,  and  he 
wore  a  black  coat  which,  if  not  cut  in  approved  min- 
isterial style,  was  at  least  of  the  right  colour.  I  went  up 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  335 

to  him  and  said:  "Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I'd  like  to  know 
if  you  are  a  preacher?" 

"I  am,"  he  replied  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "I  am  a 
minister  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  I  have 
been  in  the  mountains  for  the  past  year,  both  preaching 
and  mining,  and  am  now  on  my  way  to  my  home  in  the 
States." 

"Well,"  I  continued,  "If  you'll  go  along  with  me  I 
guess  I  can  find  a  job  for  you." 

He  arose  at  once  and  accompanied  us  home. 

"May  I  ask,"  he  said  on  the  way,  "what  is  to  be  the 
nature  of  my  services?  A  baptism  or  marriage,  or  is 
there  some  sick  one  in  need  of  a  few  words?" 

"It's  a  marriage,"  I  replied;  "that  is,  providing  the 
other  party  is  willing." 

With  that  Berry  shamelessly  snickered. 

The  women  were  gaily  talking  and  laughing  when  we 
arrived,  but  became  silent  at  once  when  they  saw  our 
companion.  They  were  always  thus  in  the  presence  of 
strangers.  I  called  Nat-ah'-ki  into  the  back  room. 
"He  out  there,"  I  said  to  her,  "is  a  sacred  (more  cor- 
rectly Sun)  white  man.  I  have  asked  him  to  sacredly 
marry  us." 

"Oh,"  she  cried.  "How  did  you  know  my  wish? 
It  is  what  I  have  always  wanted  you  to  do,  but  I — I 
was  afraid,  ashamed  to  ask  it  of  you.  But,  is  he  a  real 
sacred  white  man?  He  wears  no  black  robe,  no  cross?" 

"He  is  of  another  society,"  I  replied.  "There  are  a 
thousand  of  them,  and  each  claims  that  theirs  is  the  only 
true  one.  It  matters  not  to  us.  Come  on." 

And  so,  Berry  acting  as  interpreter,  we  were  married 
and  we  sent  the  preacher  forth  with  a  gold  piece  as  a 
souvenir  of  the  occasion.  "I'm  hungry,"  said  Berry, 
"broil  us  a  couple  of  buffalo  tongues,  you  women." 


326  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Broiled  tongue  and  bread,  tea  and  apple  sauce  com- 
prised the  wedding  feast,  as  we  may  call  it,  and  that 
also  was  good  enough  for  us. 

"It  is  this,"  Nat-ah'-ki  confided  to  me  later.  "Many 
white  men  who  have  married  women  of  our  tribe  ac- 
cording to  our  customs,  have  used  them  only  as  play- 
things and  then  have  left  them.  But  those  who  took 
women  by  the  sacred  words  of  a  sacred  white  man,  have 
never  left  them.  I  know  that  you  would  never  leave 
me,  no  never.  But  how  the  others  have  laughed  at  me, 
joked  about  me,  saying:  'Crazy  girl,  you  love  your 
man,  and  you  are  a  fool;  he  has  not  married  you  in  the 
white  man's  way,  and  will  leave  you  as  soon  as  he  sees 
another  woman  with  a  prettier  face.'  They  can  never 
say  that  again.  No,  never." 

We  had  planned,  Berry  and  I,  to  remain  in  Fort  Ben- 
ton  during  the  summer  and  make  a  camp  trade  the 
following  winter.  The  steamboats  began  to  arrive  in 
May  and  then  the  levee  was  a  busy  place.  The  traders 
were  also  rushed,  the  Indians  crowding  in  to  dispose  of 
the  last  of  their  robes  and  furs.  But  we  had  no  part 
in  this,  and  in  a  few  weeks  we  became  restless.  Berry 
decided  to  make  a  couple  of  trips  to  Helena  with  his 
bull  train,  although  it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  go, 
as  he  had  hired  a  train-master,  or,  in  the  language  of  the 
bull- whacker,  a  "wagon  boss."  The  women  decided  that 
they  wanted  to  go  berrying.  The  Piegans  had  long 
since  crossed  the  river  and  were  camped  on  the  Teton, 
only  a  few  miles  away.  We  proposed  to  join  them, 
Nat-ah'-ki  sending  word  to  her  mother  to  have  our  saddle 
and  pack  horses  driven  in. 

A  couple  of  weeks  before  this,  I  was  sitting  on  the 
levee  one  day  when  a  stranger  came  along  and  sat  down 
by  my  side,  and  we  fell  to  talking  about  various  things. 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  227 

I  saw  at  once  that  he  was  a  man  of  education  and  re- 
finement, and  from  the  moment  I  first  saw  him  I  took 
a  liking  to  him.  He  was  tall  and  well  built,  brown- 
eyed  and  brown-haired,  and  had  a  pleasing,  frank  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  although  it  was  rather  a  sad 
one.  Also,  he  seemed  to  have  no  enthusiasms.  He 
seldom  smiled,  never  laughed  outright,  and  was  often 
so  lost  in  thought  over — to  judge  from  his  sad  eyes — 
something  near  his  heart  that  he  was  entirely  oblivious 
to  his  surroundings.  I  invited  him  over  to  the 
little  abode  for  dinner,  and  Berry  immediately  took 
to  him  as  I  had  done.  So  did  the  women,  who  were 
usually  very  distant  and  dignified  in  the  presence  of 
strangers.  He  soon  passed  the  most  of  his  time  with  us, 
and  nothing,  in  the  estimation  of  our  household,  was  good 
enough  for  him.  Old  Mrs.  Berry  rigged  up  a  fine  robe 
couch  with  willow  back-rests  for  his  especial  use.  The 
Crow  Woman  gave  him  a  beautiful  pair  of  moccasins. 
Nat-ah'-ki  and  Berry's  wife  got  out  their  choice  stores 
of  pemmican,  and  depuyer,  dried  meats  and  berries 
for  our  little  evening  feasts. 

"See  here,"  I  said  to  Nat-ah'-ki  one  day.  "I'm  get- 
ting jealous  of  this  man.  You  women  think  more  of 
him  than  you  do  of  Berry  and  me." 

"He  is  so  sad  feeling,"  she  said,  "that  we  pity  him. 
What  i  s  it  that  troubles  him  ?  Has  he  lost  some  loved  one  ? ' ' 

I  knew  no  more  than  she  what  troubled  him;  that 
he  was  grieving  about  something  was  evident.  We  never 
questioned  him,  never  even  asked  his  name,  nor  whence 
he  came.  And  that  is  where  the  Western  people  differed 
from  those  of  the  East.  They  never  gossipped,  never 
tried  to  pry  into  one's  secrets,  nor  demanded  his  pedigree. 
They  simply  gave  him  the  hand  of  good-fellowship  and 
used  him  as  they  wished  to  be  used. 


238  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

The  women  named  him  Kut-ai'-imi,  Never-Laughs; 
and  thus  among  themselves  they  ever  spoke  of  him. 
It  was  a  long  time  before  he  knew  it,  and  then  it  didn't 
matter.  He  told  Berry  and  me  that  his  name  was — well, 
what  it  was  is  not  necessary  for  this  story;  we  will  call 
him  Ashton.  He  also  informed  us  that  his  home  was 
in  Boston,  and  that  he  had  come  west  merely  to  see 
something  of  Western  life.  When  he  learned  that  the 
women  and  I  were  to  join  the  camp,  he  asked  to  be  al- 
lowed to  go  with  us,  and  of  course  we  were  glad  to  have 
him  go.  He  purchased  a  horse  and  saddle,  blanket  and 
rifle,  and  various  other  things  necessary  for  the  trip. 

So,  one  evening  we  returned  to  camp,  to  our  very 
own  lodge,  which  Nat-ah'-ki's  mother  had  again  set  up 
and  furnished  for  our  home-coming.  On  every  hand 
there  was  song  and  laughter,  and  beating  of  drums,  and 
calls  for  feasts.  The  women  broiled  some  meat,  made 
some  bread  and  tea,  and  we  ate  the  simple  meal  with 
relish.  Then  Ashton  and  I  lay  back  on  our  soft  lounges 
and  smoked,  talking  little.  I  was  perfectly  content; 
my  friend,  judging  by  his  dreamy  and  far-away  ex- 
pression, had  gone  back  eastward,  in  thought,  a  couple 
of  thousand  miles.  The  women  soon  washed  the  dishes, 
and  got  out  their  porcupine  quill,  or  bead  embroidery 
work.  "Grandmother,"  I  said,  "tell  me  a  story;  some- 
thing about  your  people  in  the  long  ago." 

"Hai!"  the  Crow  Woman  exclaimed.  "Just  hear 
him.  He  is  always  wanting  stories.  Before  long,  if 
we  are  to  keep  him  contented,  we  will  have  to  make  up 
some,  for  he  has  heard  about  all  we  know." 

"But  just  think  how  selfish  he  is,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki, 
looking  at  me  mischievously.  "  He  gets  all  of  our  stories, 
but  tells  us  none  of  his." 

I  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  the  little  woman 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  229 

was  right,  and  promised  to  tell  some  later.     Old  Mrs. 
Berry,  after  some  thinking,  began: 

THE    STORY    OF    NO-HEART 

"It  was  before  my  grandfather's  time,  yes,  far  back 
of  that,  for  he  said  that  the  old  people  whom  he  had 
heard  relate  it,  told  about  having  heard  it  from  their 
grandfathers.  So  it  is  surely  a  story  of  great  age. 

"It  was  in  the  spring  time.  The  people  were  scat- 
tered out  on  the  plain  one  day,  busily  digging  the  white 
root,*  when  a  terrible  thunderstorm  came  up.  It  was 
far  to  the  lodges,  so  the  diggers,  knowing  that  they 
would  get  wet  whether  they  ran  or  stayed,  just  sat  down 
where  they  were,  covered  themselves  with  their  robes,  and 
waited  for  the  storm  to  pass  by.  One  family  happened 
to  be  all  near  each  other  when  the  rain  began  to  fall, 
and  all  huddled  up  closely  together. 

"  'This  is  a  very  cold  rain,'  said  the  mother.  'I  am 
shivering. ' 

"  'Yes,'  said  the  father,  'it  is  cold.  Crowd  closer 
together  all  of  you.' 

"Thus  they  sat,  when  thunder  crashed  above  them, 
and  a  ball  of  lightning,  falling  in  their  midst,  broke  with 
a  big  noise,  and  knocked  them  all  flat  and  limp  on  the 
wet  ground.  There  they  lay,  the  father  and  mother, 
two  sons  and  a  daughter,  and  none  dared  go  to  aid  them, 
for  fear  the  angry  god  would  strike  them,  too.  But 
when  the  storm  passed  by,  the  people  ran  to  do  what 
they  could  for  the  stricken  ones.  At  first  they  thought 
that  all  of  them  were  dead,  and  four  of  them  surely  were; 
the  fifth  one,  the  girl,  still  breathed.  In  a  little  while 
she  sat  up  and,  seeing  what  had  befallen  the  others,  wept 
so  piteously  that  the  women  there  wept  with  her, 

*  The  pomme  blanche  of  the  French  Trappers,  Psoraka  esculenta. 


23o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

although  none  of  them  were  related  to  her.  The  father 
had  been  an  orphan  since  childhood ;  so  had  the  mother ; 
and  the  poor  girl  was  now  alone.  In  the  whole  camp 
she  had  not  one  relation. 

"Kind  friends  buried  the  dead,  and  the  many  dif- 
ferent ones  asked  the  girl  to  come  and  live  with  them; 
but  she  refused  them  all.  'You  must  go  and  live  with 
some  one,'  said  the  chief.  'No  one  ever  heard  of  a 
young  woman  living  by  herself.  You  cannot  live  alone. 
Where  would  you  procure  your  food?  And  think  of 
what  people  would  say  should  you  do  so;  you  would 
soon  have  a  bad  name.' 

"  'If  people  speak  evil  of  me,  I  cannot  help  it,'  said 
the  girl.  'They  will  live  to  take  back  their  bad  words. 
I  have  decided  to  do  this,  and  I  will  find  a  way  to  keep 
from  starving.' 

"So  this  girl  lived  on  alone  in  the  lodge  her  parents 
had  built,  with  no  company  save  her  dogs.  The  women 
of  the  camp  frequently  visited  her  and  gave  her  meat  and 
other  food;  but  no  man,  either  young  or  old,  ever  went 
in  and  sat  by  her  fire.  One  or  two  had  attempted  it, 
but  only  once,  for  she^had  told  them  plainly  that  she  did 
not  wish  the  society  of  any  man.  So  the  youths  gazed 
at  her  from  afar,  and  prayed  the  gods  to  soften  her  heart. 
She  was  a  handsome  young  woman,  a  hard  and  ceaseless 
toiler;  no  wonder  that  the  men  fell  in  love  with  her, 
and  no  wonder  that  they  named  her  No  Heart. 

"One  young  man,  Long  Elk,  son  of  the  great  chief, 
loved  the  lone  girl  so  much  that  he  was  nearly  crazy 
with  the  pain  and  longing  for  her.  He  had  never  spoken 
to  her,  well  knowing  that  her  answer  would  be  that  which 
she  had  given  to  others.  But  he  could  not  help  going 
about,  day  after  day,  where  she  could  always  see  him. 
If  she  worked  in  her  little  bean  and  corn  patch,  he  sat 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  331 

on  the  edge  of  the  river  bank  nearby.  If  she  went  to 
the  timber  for  wood,  he  strolled  out  in  that  direction, 
often  meeting  her  on  the  trail,  but  she  always  passed 
him  with  eyes  cast  down,  as  if  she  had  not  seen  him. 
Often,  in  the  night,  when  all  the  camp  was  fast  asleep, 
Long  Elk  would  steal  out  of  his  father's  lodge,  pick  up 
a  water-skin,  and  filling  it  again  and  again  at  the  river, 
would  water  every  row  in  No  Heart's  garden.  At  the 
risk  of  his  life  he  would  go  out  alone  on  the  plains  where 
the  Sioux  were  always  prowling,  and  hunt.  In  the  morn- 
ing when  No  Heart  awoke  and  went  out,  she  would  find 
hanging  in  the  dark  entrance  way,  choice  portions  of 
meat,  the  skin  of  a  buffalo  or  the  deer  kind.  The  people 
talked  about  this,  wondering  who  did  it  all.  If  the 
girl  knew,  she  gave  no  sign  of  it,  always  passing  the 
young  man  as  if  she  did  not  know  there  was  such  a  per- 
son on  earth.  A  few  low  and  evil  ones  themselves, 
hinted  wickedly  that  the  unknown  protector  was  well 
paid  for  his  troubles.  But  they  were  always  rebuked, 
for  the  girl  had  many  friends  who  believed  that  she  was 
all  good. 

"In  the  third  summer  of  the  girl's  lone  living,  the 
Mandans  and  Arickarees  quarrelled,  and  then  trouble 
began,  parties  constantly  starting  out  to  steal  each 
other's  horses,  and  to  kill  and  scalp  all  whom  they  could 
find  hunting  or  travelling  about  beyond  the  protection 
of  the  villages.  This  was  a  very  sad  condition  for  the 
people.  The  two  tribes  had  long  been  friends;  Man- 
dan  men  had  married  Arickaree  women,  and  many 
Arickaree  men  had  Mandan  wives.  It  was  dreadful  to 
see  the  scalps  of  perhaps  one's  own  relatives  brought  into 
camp.  But  what  could  the  women  do?  They  had  no 
voice  in  the  councils,  and  were  afraid  to  say  what  they 
thought.  Not  so  No  Heart.  Every  day  she  went  about 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

in  the  camp,  talking  loudly,  so  that  the  men  must  hear, 
scolding  them  and  their  wickedness;  pointing  out  the 
truth,  that  by  killing  each  other,  the  two  tribes  would 
become  so  weak  that  they  would  soon  be  unable  to  with- 
stand their  common  enemy,  the  Sioux.  Yes,  No  Heart 
would  even  walk  right  up  to  a  chief  and  scold  him,  and 
he  would  be  obliged  to  turn  silently  away,  for  he  could 
not  argue  with  a  woman,  nor  could  he  force  this  one  to 
close  her  mouth;  she  was  the  ruler  of  her  own  person. 

"  One  night  a  large  number  of  Arickarees  succeeded 
in  making  an  opening  in  the  village  stockade  and,  pass- 
ing through,  they  began  to  lead  out  the  horses.  Some- 
one soon  discovered  them,  however,  and  gave  the  alarm, 
and  a  big  fight  took  place,  the  Mandans  driving  the 
enemy  out  on  the  plain,  and  down  into  the  timber  be- 
low. Some  men  on  both  sides  were  killed;  there  was 
both  mourning  and  rejoicing  in  the  village. 

"The  Arickarees  retreated  to  their  village.  Toward 
evening  No  Heart  went  down  into  the  timber  for  fuel, 
and  in  a  thick  clump  of  willows  she  found  one  of  the 
enemy,  a  young  man,  badly  wounded.  An  arrow  had 
pierced  his  groin,  and  the  loss  of  blood  had  been  great. 
He  was  so  weak  that  he  could  scarcely  speak  or  move. 
No  Heart  stuck  many  willow  twigs  in  the  ground  about 
him,  the  more  securely  to  conceal  him.  'Do  not  fear,' 
she  said  to  him,  'I  will  bring  you  food  and  drink.' 

"She  hurried  back  to  her  lodge  and  got  some  dried 
meat  and  a  skin  of  water,  put  them  under  her  robe  and 
returned  to  the  wounded  one.  He  drank  much,  and  ate 
of  the  food.  No  Heart  washed  and  bound  the 
wound.  Then  she  again  left  him,  telling  him  to  lie 
quiet,  that  in  the  night  she  would  return  and  take  him 
to  her  home,  where  she  would  care  for  him  until  he  got 
well.  In  her  lodge  she  fixed  a  place  for  him,  screening 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  233 

one  of  the  bed  places  with  a  large  cowskin;  she  also 
partly  covered  the  smoke  hole  and  hung  a  skin  across 
the  entrance,  so  that  the  interior  of  the  lodge  had  but 
little  light.  The  women  who  sometimes  visited  her 
would  never  suspect  that  anyone  was  concealed,  and 
especially  an  enemy — in  a  lodge  where  for  three  summers 
no  man  had  entered. 

"It  was  a  very  dark  night.  Down  in  the  timber 
there  was  no  light  at  all.  No  Heart  was  obliged  to  ex- 
tend her  arms  as  she  walked,  to  keep  from  running 
against  the  trees,  but  she  knew  the  place  so  well  that 
she  had  little  trouble  in  finding  the  thicket,  and  the  one 
she  had  come  to  aid.  'Arise,'  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
'Arise,  and  follow  me.' 

"The  young  man  attempted  to  get  up,  but  fell  back 
heavily  upon  the  ground.  'I  cannot  stand,'  he  said; 
'my  legs  have  no  strength.' 

"Then  No  Heart  cried  out:  'You  cannot  walk!  I 
had  not  thought  but  that  you  could  walk.  What  shall 
I  do?  What  shall  I  do?' 

"  'You  will  let  me  carry  him  for  you,'  said  someone 
standing  close  behind  her.  'I  will  carry  him  wherever 
you  lead.' 

"  No  Heart  turned  with  a  little  cry  of  surprise.  She 
could  not  see  the  speaker's  face  in  the  darkness,  only  his 
dim  form ;  but  she  knew  the  voice.  She  was  not  afraid. 
'Lift  him  then,'  she  said,  'and  follow  me.' 

"She  herself  raised  the  wounded  one  up  and  placed 
him  on  the  newcomer's  back,  and  then  led  the  way  out 
of  the  timber,  across  the  plain,  through  the  stockade,  in 
which  she  had  loosened  a  post,  and  then  on  to  her  lodge. 
No  one  was  about,  and  they  were  not  discovered.  Within 
a  fire  was  burning,  but  there  was  no  need  of  the  light  to 
show  the  girl  who  had  helped  her.  He  was  Long  Elk. 


234  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

'We  will  put  him  here,'  she  said,  lifting  the  skin  in  front 
of  the  couch  she  had  prepared,  and  they  laid  the  sick 
man  carefully  down  upon  it.  Then  Long  Elk  stood  for 
a  little,  looking  at  the  girl,  but  she  remained  silent  and 
would  not  look  at  him.  'I  will  go  now,'  he  said,  'but 
each  night  I  will  come  with  meat  for  you  and  your 
lover.' 

"  Still  the  girl  did  not  speak,  and  he  went  away.  But 
as  soon  as  he  had  gone,  No  Heart  sat  down  and  cried. 
The  sick  man  raised  up  a  little  and  asked,  'What  troubles 
you?  Why  are  you  crying?' 

"  '  Did  you  not  hear  ? '  she  replied.  'He  said  that  you 
are  my  lover.' 

"  '  I  know  you,'  said  the  man.  '  They  call  you  No 
Heart,  but  they  lie.  You  have  a  heart ;  I  wish  it  were 
for  me.' 

"  'Don't!'  the  girl  cried.  'Don't  say  that  again! 
I  will  take  care  of  you,  feed  you.  As  your  mother  is  to 
you,  so  will  I  be.' 

"  Now,  when  night  came  again,  No  Heart  went  often 
out  in  the  passageway,  staying  there  longer  and  longer 
each  time,  returning  only  to  give  the  sick  man  water,  or 
a  little  food.  At  last,  as  she  was  sitting  out  there  in  the 
dark,  Long  Elk  came,  and  feeling  for  the  right  place, 
hung  up  a  piece  of  meat  beyond  the  reach  of  the  dogs. 
'Come  in,'  she  said  to  him.  'Come  in  and  talk  with  the 
wounded  one.' 

"After  that  Long  Elk  sat  with  the  Arickaree  every 
night  for  a  time,  and  they  talked  of  the  things  which 
interest  men.  While  he  was  in  the  lodge  No  Heart 
never  spoke,  except  to  say,  'Eat  it,'  when  she  placed 
food  before  them.  Day  after  day  the  wounded  one  grew 
stronger.  One  night,  after  Long  Elk  had  gone,  he  said, 
'I  am  able  to  travel;  to-morrow  night  I  will  start  home- 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  WEDDING  235 

ward.  I  want  to  know  why  you  have  taken  pity  on  me, 
why  you  saved  me  from  death?' 

"  'Listen,  then,'  said  the  girl.  'It  was  because  war 
is  bad;  because  I  pitied  you.  Many  women  here,  and 
many  more  in  your  village,  are  crying  because  they  have 
lost  the  ones  they  loved  in  this  quarrel.  Of  them  all, 
I  alone  have  talked,  begging  the  chiefs  to  make  peace 
with  you.  All  the  other  women  were  glad  of  my  words, 
but  they  are  afraid,  and  do  not  dare  speak  for  themselves. 
I  talked  and  feared  not;  because  no  one  could  bid  me 
stop.  I  have  helped  you,  now  do  you  help  me;  help 
your  women;  help  us  all.  When  you  get  home  tell 
what  was  done  for  you  here,  and  talk  hard  for  peace.' 

"  'So  I  will,'  the  Arickaree  told  her.  'When  they 
learn  all  that  you  have  done  for  me,  the  chiefs  will  listen. 
I  am  sure  they  will  be  glad  to  stop  this  war.' 

"The  next  night,  when  Long  Elk  entered  the  lodge, 
he  found  the  man  sitting  up.  By  his  side  lay  his  weapons 
and  a  little  sack  of  food.  'I  was  waiting  for  you,'  he 
said.  'I  am  now  well,  and  wish  to  start  for  home  to- 
night. Will  you  take  me  out  beyond  the  stockade? 
If  any  speak  you  can  answer  them,  and  they  will  not 
suspect  that  their  enemy  passes  by.' 

"  '  I  will  go  with  you,  of  course,'  Long  Elk  told  him. 
Whereupon  he  arose,  slung  on  his  bow  and  quiver,  the 
sack  of  food,  and  lifted  his  shield.  No  Heart  sat  quietly 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lodge,  looking  straight  at  the 
fire.  Long  Elk  turned  to  her:  'And  you?'  he  asked. 
'Are  you  also  ready?' 

"She  did  not  answer,  but  covered  her  face  with  her 
robe. 

"  'I  go  alone,'  said  the  Arickaree.     'Let  us  start.' 

"They  went  out,  through  the  village,  through  the 
stockade,  and  across  the  bottom  to  the  timber,  where 


236  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

they  stopped,  'You  have  come  far  enough,'  the  Aricka- 
ree  said,  'I  will  go  on  alone  from  here.  You  have  been 
good  to  me.  I  shall  not  forget  it.  When  I  arrive  home 
I  shall  talk  much  for  peace  between  our  tribes.  I  hope 
we  may  soon  meet  again  in  friendship.' 

"  'Wait,'  said  Long  Elk,  as  he  turned  to  go,  'I  want 
to  ask  you  something:  Why  do  you  not  take  No 
Heart  with  you?' 

"  'I  would  if  she  were  willing,'  he  answered;  'but  she 
is  not  for  me.  I  tell  you  truly,  this:  She  has  been  a 
mother  to  me;  no  more,  no  less.  And  you,'  he  con- 
tinued, 'have  you  ever  asked  her  to  be  your  woman? 
No?  Then  go  now;  right  now,  and  do  so.' 

"  'It  would  be  useless,'  said  Long  Elk,  sadly.  'Many 
have  asked  her,  and  she  has  always  turned  them  away.' 

"  '  I  have  seen  much  while  I  lay  sick  in  her  lodge,'  the 
Arickaree  continued.  'I  have  seen  her  gaze  at  you  as 
you  sat  talking  to  me,  and  her  eyes  were  beautiful  then. 
And  I  have  seen  her  become  restless  and  go  out  and  in, 
out  and  in,  when  you  were  late.  When  a  woman  does 
that,  it  means  that  she  loves  you.  Go  and  ask  her.' 

"They  parted,  Long  Elk  returned  to  the  village.  'It 
could  not  be,'  he  thought,  'that  the  young  man  was 
right.  No,  it  could  not  be.'  Had  he  not  kept  near  her 
these  many  winters  and  summers?  and  never  once  had 
she  looked  at  him,  or  smiled.  Thinking  thus,  he  wan- 
dered on,  and  on,  and  found  himself  standing  by  the 
entrance  to  her  lodge.  Within  he  heard,  faintly,  some- 
one crying.  He  could  not  be  sure  that  was  it,  the  sound 
of  it  was  so  low.  He  stepped  noiselessly  in  and  carefully 
drew  aside  the  door  skin.  No  Heart  was  sitting  where 
he  had  last  seen  her,  sitting  before  the  dying  fire,  robe 
over  her  head,  and  she  was  crying.  He  stole  past  the 
doorway  and  sat  down  beside  her,  quite  close,  but  he 


NAT-AH'-KrS  WEDDING  237 

dared  not  touch  her.  'Good  Heart,'  he  said,  'Big  Heart, 
don't  cry.' 

"  But  she  only  cried  harder  when  she  heard  his  words, 
and  he  was  much  troubled,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 
After  a  little  he  moved  closer  and  put  his  arm  around 
her;  she  did  not  draw  away,  so  then  he  drew  the  robe 
away  from  her  face.  'Tell  me,'  he  said,  'why  you  are 
crying?' 

"  'Because  I  am  so  lonely.' 

"  'Ah!  You  do  love  him  then.  Perhaps  it  is  not  too 
late;  I  may  he  able  to  cr  orriSfe.  him.  Shall  I  go  and 
call  him  back  to  you  ? '  xw'n1~  "*-' 

"  'What  do  you  mean?'  cried  No  Heart,  staring  at 
him.  'Who  are  you  talking  about?' 

"  'He  who  has  just  left;  the  Arickaree,'  Long  Elk 
answered.  But  now  he  had  edged  up  still  closer,  and 
his  arm  was  tighter  around  her,  and  she  leaned  heavily 
against  him. 

"  'Was  there  ever  such  a  blind  one?'  she  said.  'Yes, 
I  will  let  you  know  my  heart;  I  will  not  be  ashamed, 
nor  afraid  to  say  it.  I  was  crying  because  I  thought  you 
would  not  return.  All  these  summers  and  winters  I 
have  been  waiting,  hoping  that  you  would  love  me,  and 
you  never  spoke.' 

"  'How  could  I?'  he  asked.  'You  never  looked  at 
me;  you  made  no  sign.' 

"  '  It  was  your  place  to  speak,'  she  said.  'Even  yet 
you  have  not  done  so.' 

"  '  I  do,  now,  then.     Will  you  take  me  for  your  man? ' 

"She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him, 
and  that  was  answer  enough. 

"In  the  morning,  like  any  other  married  man,  Long 
Elk  went  out  and  stood  by  the  entrance  to  the  lodge 
which  was  now  his,  and  shouted  feast  invitations  to  his 


238  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

father  and  friends.  They  all  came,  and  all  were  pleased 
that  he  had  got  such  a  good  woman.  Some  made  jokes 
about  newly  married  ones,  which  made  the  young  woman 
cover  her  face  with  her  robe.  Yet  she  was  so  happy 
that  she  would  soon  throw  it  back  and  laugh  with  the 
others. 

"In  a  few  days  came  a  party  from  the  Arickarees, 
and  the  wounded  young  man  was  one  of  them — asking 
for  peace.  The  story  was  told  then,  how  No  Heart  had 
taken  in  the  young  man  and  brought  him  to  life  again, 
and  when  they  heard  ifr  Xl^tiy  women  prayed  the  gods 
to  be  good  to  her,  and  |s  _°her  and  her  man  long  life. 
Peace  between  the  two  tribes  was  then  declared,  and  there 
was  much  rejoicing. 

"There  my  son,  I  have  finished." 

"Well,  what  was  all  that  about?"  asked  Ashton, 
rousing  up  and  reaching  out  for  his  pipe  and  tobacco. 

"Oh!"  I  replied,  "  'twas  the  story  of  a  girl  and  a 
man."  And  I  proceeded  to  give  him  a  translation  of  it. 
After  I  had  finished,  he  sat  quietly  thinking  for  some 
time,  and  then  remarked: 

"This  gives  me  a  new  and  unexpected  view  of  these 
people.  I  had  not  thought  that  love,  that  self-sacrifice, 
such  as  the  story  depicts,  was  at  all  in  their  nature. 
Really,  it's  quite  refreshing  to  learn  that  there  are 
occasionally  women  who  are  true  and  steadfast  in  their 
love." 

He  said  this  bitterly.  I  could  have  told  him 
things,  but  contented  myself  by  saying,  "  Keep  your 
eyes  open,  friend.  You  may  find  much  in  these 
people  to  be  commended." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    ATTACK    ON    THE    HUNTERS 

AFTER  a  couple  of  days  camp  was  moved  out  to  the 
Marias,  in  the  bottom  opposite  the  mouth  of 
Black  Coule*e.  Sarvis  berries  were  very  plentiful  all 
along  the  river,  and  the  women  gathered  large  quan- 
tities of  them  to  dry  for  winter  use.  Ashton  had  not 
yet  fired  a  shot  from  his  new  rifle,  so  one  afternoon  I 
prevailed  upon  him  to  go  for  a  hunt.  I  had  some  diffi- 
culty, however,  in  getting  him  out.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  interest  in  anything,  passing  most  of  the  time  on  his 
couch,  smoking,  smoking,  and  abstractedly  refilling  his 
pipe  and  smoking  again.  The  women  were  right. 
Never  Laugh  was  sorely  grieving  about  something. 
I  wished  that  I  could  find  a  way  to  make  him  forget  it, 
whatever  the  trouble  was. 

We  climbed  on  our  horses,  crossed  the  river  and 
rode  northward,  near  enough  to  the  Black  Coulee  to 
look  down  into  it  occasionally.  Game  was  not  very 
plentiful,  for  the  hunters  had  driven  the  most  of  the  herds 
back  toward  the  Sweetgrass  Hills.  However,  we  saw 
some  antelope  here  and  there,  and  several  small  bands 
of  buffalo,  with  occasionally  a  lone  old  bull.  We  rode  out 
five  or  six  miles,  and  then  down  into  the  coule"e  to  water 
our  horses  at  a  pool  we  saw  in  the  bottom.  It  was  a 
shallow,  narrow  stretch  of  water,  about  fifty  yards  in 
length,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  willows  border- 
ing its  eastern  side  had  been  cut  in  considerable  quantity 
by  beavers.  On  the  western  side,  there  was  a  clay 

239 


24o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

slope  of  twenty  or  thirty  feet,  up  to  a  high-cut  bank,  and 
in  the  base  of  this  bank  was  a  deep,  dark,  low  cavern, 
in  which  the  beavers  lived.  Judging  by  the  various- 
sized  footprints  about,  a  whole  family  of  them  lived 
there.  I  never  before,  nor  since,  found  these  animals 
in  such  a  place.  There  was  no  water  between  this  pool 
and  the  river,  some  miles  distant ;  the  pool  was  not  deep 
enough  to  wholly  cover  them.  But  most  unusual  of  all 
was  the  fact  that  they  lived  in  a  cave,  the  entrance  to 
which  was  some  distance  from  and  above  the  pool. 
There  were  three  or  four  old  lodge  poles  lying  nearby, 
and  I  tried  to  ascertain  the  depth  of  the  cave  with  one 
of  them,  but  failed.  I  found,  however,  that  the  roof  of 
it  sloped  down  so  near  the  floor,  that  nothing  larger  than 
a  fox  could  get  into  the  innermost  recesses.  A  fox,  even 
a  red  one,  would  go  hungry  a  long  time  before  trying  to 
make  a  meal  of  a  beaver. 

Before  descending  into  the  coule"e  we  had  seen  a  few 
head  of  buffalo  feeding  on  the  opposite  side  of  it,  and 
while  we  loitered  at  the  pool  they  came  in  sight  at  the 
top  of  the  slope,  breaking  into  a  trot,  and  finally  on  a 
'lope  hurrying  down  for  water.  "  Now,  then,"  I  said 
to  Ashton,  "try  your  rifle;  shoot  that  young  cow,  the 
third  from  the  leader." 

The  band  turned,  when  about  a  hundred  yards  away, 
in  order  to  come  into  the  bottom  of  the  coulee  above  the 
cut  bank,  and  when  this  particular  animal  swung 
broadside  to  us,  he  threw  his  gun  up  and,  without  a 
noticeable  pause  to  sight  the  arm,  sent  a  bullet  into  the 
right  place,  just  back  of  the  shoulder.  Blood  streamed 
from  its  nostrils  almost  at  the  crack  of  the  gun,  and  after 
'loping  on  a  short  distance,  it  suddenly  stopped  and  then 
sank  to  the  ground.  "  That  was  a  fine  shot,"  I  remarked. 
"You  have  evidently  handled  the  rifle  before." 


THE  ATTACK  ON  THE  HUNTERS         241 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  used  to  shoot  a  good  deal  in  the 
Adirondacks,  and  in  Maine  and  Nova  Scotia." 

We  led  our  horses  over  to  the  fallen  buffalo,  and 
I  bled  it,  then  set  it  up  to  cut  out  the  boss  ribs,  Ashton 
standing  by  watching  the  way  I  did  it.  "I'll  not  kill 
another  one,"  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  me. 
"  It  doesn't  seem  right  to  take  the  life  of  such  a  magnifi- 
cent animal." 

"Well,"  I  remarked,  "there  isn't  a  bit  of  fresh  meat 
in  the  lodge.  I  don't  know  what  the  women  would 
say  were  we  to  return  without  some." 

"Oh!  we  must  eat  of  course,"  he  agreed;  "but  I 
don't  care  to  kill  any  more  of  these  noble  animals. 
Somehow  I've  lost  all  pleasure  in  hunting.  Hereafter 
I'll  loan  some  Indian  my  rifle,  and  he  can  furnish  my 
share  of  the  meat.  That  can  be  done,  I  presume?" 

I  told  him  that  he  could  probably  make  some  such 
arrangement.  I  didn't  tell  him  though,  that  I  would 
see  that  he  got  out  and  rustled  some  himself.  I  wanted 
to  wake  him  up ;  to  get  him  out  of  the  trance  he  was  in. 
There  is  nothing  so  conducive  to  good  mental  health 
as  plenty  of  fatiguing  work  or  exercise. 

When  we  returned  home  with  the  boss  ribs  and  the 
tongue,  and  several  other  parts  of  the  animal  which  I  had 
surreptitiously  cut  out  and  hurriedly  placed  in  the  sack 
I  especially  carried  for  them,  I  took  pains  to  relate  what 
a  fine  shot  my  friend  had  made.  The  women  praised 
him  highly,  all  of  which  I  translated,  and  the  Crow 
Woman  told  him  if  she  was  not  already  his  mother,  so 
to  speak,  she  would  like  to  be  his  wife,  for  then  she  would 
be  sure  to  have  plenty  of  meat  and  skins.  Ashton 
smiled,  but  made  no  answer. 

We  had  a  dish  for  supper  that  evening  at  which  my 
friend  looked  askance,  as  I  had  done  when  I  first  saw 


242  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

it,  and  then,  after  tasting  it,  he  ate  it  all,  and  looked 
around  for  more,  as  I  also  had  done.  I  had  brought 
in  the  little  sack,  among  other  things,  a  few  feet  of  a 
certain  entrail  which  is  always  streaked  or  covered  with 
soft,  snowy-white  fat.  This  Nat-ah'-ki  washed  thor- 
oughly and  then  stuffed  with  finely-chopped  tenderloin, 
and  stuffed  it  in  such  a  manner  that  the  inside  of  the 
entrail  became  the  outside,  and  consequently  the  rich 
fat  was  encased  with  the  meat.  Both  ends  of  the  case 
were  then  securely  tied,  and  the  long  sausage-like  thing 
placed  on  the  coals  to  roast,  the  cook  constantly  turning 
and  moving  it  around  to  prevent  it  burning.  After 
about  twenty  minutes  on  the  coals,  it  was  dropped  into 
a  pot  of  boiling  water  for  five  or  ten  minutes  more, 
and  was  then  ready  to  serve.  In  my  estimation,  and 
in  that  of  all  who  have  tried  it,  this  method  of  cooking 
meat  is  the  best  of  all,  for  the  securely  tied  case  confines 
all  the  juices  of  the  meat.  The  Blackfeet  call  this  Crow 
entrail,  as  they  learned  from  that  tribe  how  to  prepare 
and  cook  the  dish.  It  remains  for  some  enterprising 
city  cook  to  give  it  an  English  name,  and  open  a  place 
where  it  will  be  the  main  feature  of  the  food.  I'll  guar- 
antee that  all  the  lovers  of  good  things  in  the  town  will 
flock  to  him. 

A  day  or  two  later,  in  pursuance  of  my  plan  to  get 
Ashton  out  more  frequently,  I  pretended  to  be  ill,  and 
then  Nat-ah'-ki  told  him,  I  interpreting,  that  the  meat 
was  all  gone,  and  unless  he  went  out  and  killed  some- 
thing, we  would  go  hungry  to  bed.  He  appealed  to  me 
to  find  a  substitute  for  him,  offering  to  furnish  rifle 
and  cartridges,  and  also  pay  the  hunter,  and  Nat- 
ah'-ki  was  sent  out  to  find  some  one.  But  I  had  posted 
her,  and  she  presently  returned  with  a  very  sad  ex- 
pression on  her  face,  and  reported  that  no  one  could  be 


THE  ATTACK  ON  THE  HUNTERS         243 

found  to  go;  that  all  who  could  were  already  gone  to 
hunt. 

"Well,  then,"  said  our  friend,  "if  that  is  the  case, 
there's  no  need  of  my  going  out.  I'll  buy  some  meat 
of  them  when  they  return." 

I  thought  that  I  had  failed  after  all  in  my  little  plan, 
but  Nat-ah'-ki  came  to  the  rescue,  as  soon  as  I  told 
her  what  he  had  decided  to  do. 

"Tell  him,"  she  said,  "that  I  did  not  think  he  wished 
to  bring  shame  upon  this  lodge.  If  he  buys  meat,  the 
whole  camp  will  laugh  and  jeer  at  me,  and  say,  what  a 
useless  man  she  has  got.  He  can't  kill  enough  meat  to 
supply  his  lodge.  His  friend  has  to  buy  it  to  keep  all 
from  starving." 

Ashton  jumped  up  at  once  when  he  heard  that. 
"Where's  my  horse?"  he  asked.  "If  that  is  the  way 
they  look  at  it,  why,  I've  got  to  hunt.  Send  for  the 
horse." 

I  saw  him  off  with  Weasel  Tail,  whom  I  told  to  make 
a  wide  circle  that  would  require  the  whole  day.  And 
a  long  day  they  certainly  had,  returning  home  after 
sunset.  I  had  also  instructed  the  Indian  to  lose  his 
gun  caps — where  he  could  conveniently  find  them  again. 
So  Ashton  had  been  obliged  to  do  the  shooting,  and 
they  brought  in  plenty  of  meat.  He  was  very  tired, 
and  hungry  and  thirsty  that  evening,  and  instead  of 
smoking  innumerable  times,  he  filled  his  pipe  but  once 
after  eating,  and  then  went  to  sleep.  From  that  day 
on,  for  a  time,  he  had  to  do  all  the  hunting.  I  remained 
ill,  or  hurt  my  leg,  or  my  horse  was  missing,  so  I  couldn't 
go  out.  And  it  was  truly  wonderful  the  amount  of 
meat  we  used.  Nat-ah'-ki  carried  out  quantities  of 
it  every  day,  and  gave  it  to  the  needy  ones  of  the  camp, 
widows  and  others  who  had  no  one  to  hunt  for  them. 


244  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

But  I  did  not  remain  in  camp,  because  of  this.  As 
soon  as  Ashton  and  his  hunting  party,  either  Weasel 
Tail  or  some  other  friend,  had  departed,  I  would  go 
berrying  with  the  women,  or  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  would 
saddle  up  and  have  a  ride  somewhere  in  a  direction 
opposite  to  that  in  which  they  were  travelling.  But 
for  all  his  hard  work,  I  could  not  see  that  Ashton  be- 
came any  more  cheerful.  The  improvement  was  that 
he  had  less  time  to  think,  for  he  was  generally  sound 
asleep  by  eight  or  nine  o'clock. 

Twice  the  camp  was  moved,  each  time  a  few  miles 
farther  down  the  river.  The  berry  season  was  about 
over,  and  the  women  began  to  talk  of  returning  to  Fort 
Benton,  having  gathered  and  dried  all  the  fruit  they 
needed.  We  had  been  out  about  six  weeks,  and  I  also 
was  ready  to  return,  as  I  was  sure  that  Berry  would  be 
there  awaiting  us.  We  had  a  talk,  a  little  council  of  our 
own  one  evening,  and  decided  to  move  in  the  following 
day  but  one.  Was  it  preordained  that  I  should  send 
Ashton  out  for  a  last  hunt  the  morning  before  our 
departure?  If  I  had  not  done  so — but  I  did.  You 
shall  learn  in  time  what  was  the  result  of  it.  He  needn't 
have  gone,  we  had  plenty  of  meat.  I  sent  him,  and 
thereby  changed  the  course  of  his  whole  life.  Why, 
he  might  be  living  to-day  had  he  remained  in  camp  that 
morning.  Looking  back  at  it  all,  I  don't  know  whether 
to  blame  myself  or  not. 

Ashton  and  Weasel  Tail  rode  away.  The  women 
began  to  pack  up,  getting  out  their  parfleches  and  filling 
them  with  their  store  of  berries  and  dried  meats.  It 
was  about  noon,  and  I  had  just  signed  to  Nat-ah'-ki  that  I 
was  hungry,  when  there  suddenly  appeared  a  number 
of  riders  tearing  down  the  north  slope  of  the  valley,  and 
the  camp  began  to  hum  with  excitement.  One  or  two 


THE  ATTACK  ON  THE  HUNTERS         245 

of  the  riders  were  waving  their  robes,  making  the  sign 
for  the  "enemy."  Men  and  boys  grabbed  lariats  and 
started  on  the  run  for  their  horses.  Down  into  the  camp 
came  the  little  bunch  of  riders,  and  a  moment  later 
Ashton  rode  up  beside  me.  He  had  a  young  girl  in  front 
of  him,  whom  he  dropped  into  Nat-ah'-ki's  outstretched 
arms.  He  was  terribly  excited,  his  dark  eyes  fairly 
shone,  and  he  said  over  and  over  again,  "The  cowards! 
Oh,  the  cowards!  But  I  killed  two  of  them,  yes,  I  got 
two." 

The  girl  was  crying,  wailing:  "My  mother,  my 
father,"  she  kept  repeating,  "both  dead,  both  killed." 

There  was  a  great  commotion  in  camp ;  men  were 
saddling  horses,  calling  wildly  for  their  weapons,  mount- 
ing and  riding  away  out  on  to  the  plain  in  an  ever- 
increasing  stream.  Ashton  dismounted  and  I  saw  that 
his  left  trouser  leg  was  soaked  with  blood.  He  limped 
into  the  lodge,  and  I  followed  and  undressed  him ;  there 
was  a  long,  open  bullet  furrow  just  below  the  hip.  "  It 
was  this  way,"  he  told  me,  while  I  washed  and  band- 
aged the  wound,  "  Weasel  Tail  and  I  overtook  a  party 
of  hunters  three  or  four  miles  out,  and  travelled  on  with 
them.  Some  had  their  women  along,  to  help  skin  and 
bring  in  what  they  killed,  I  suppose.  In  a  little  while 
we  sighted  a  fine  herd  of  buffalo,  approached  them, 
and  had  a  good  run,  the  party  killing  something  like 
twenty  of  them.  We  were  butchering  the  animals  when 
something  like  fifty  riders  appeared  from  God  knows 
where,  and  commenced  shooting  at  us.  We  were  only 
seven  or  eight  men,  not  strong  enough  to  stand  them 
off,  but  we  partly  held  them  in  check,  while  the  women 
got  their  horses,  and  we  all  lit  out  for  home — that  is, 
all  but  three,  two  men  and  a  woman,  who  had  been 
killed  at  the  first  fire.  I  killed  one  of  the  enemy  before 


246  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

I  got  on  my  horse,  and  another  one  a  little  later.  And 
I'm  glad  I  did;  I  just  wish  I  could  have  killed  them  all. 
"Well,  they  followed  us  quite  a  long  ways,  perhaps 
two  miles,  but  we  managed  to  stop  them  finally,  or  per- 
haps they  thought  they  had  better  not  venture  too  near 
to  our  camp.  One  of  them  creased  me,  didn't  he?  Well, 
he  will  not  do  any  more  shooting.  I  got  him.  He  just 
tumbled  off  his  horse  on  his  head,  and  flopped  over  flat 
on  the  ground.  The  girl?  They  shot  her  horse,  but 
before  it  fell  I  reached  over  and  lifted  her  on  to  mine. 
After  that  I  couldn't  handle  my  rifle,  or  I  might  have 
done  better.  I'll  tell  you  what,  old  man,  if  'twasn't  for 
those  poor  scalped  corpses  lying  out  there  on  the  plain, 
I  would  say  that  it  was  great  sport." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NEVER-LAUGHS    GOES    EAST 

OWING  to  the  ensuing  stiffness  and  soreness  of 
Ashton's  leg,  we  deferred  for  a  few  days  our 
departure  from  the  camp.  A  Piegan  who  had  been 
wounded  in  the  fight  on  the  previous  day  died  during  the 
night.  The  attacking  party  proved  to  be  Assiniboins, 
and  in  all  they  lost  seven  of  their  number,  the  pursuing 
party  which  left  our  camp  overtaking  and  killing  two 
who  were  riding  slow  horses. 

Nat-ah'-ki  constituted  herself  protector  and  guardian 
of  the  orphan.  The  girl  had  two  aunts,  sisters  of  her 
dead  mother,  but  they  were  married  to  a  Blackfoot  and 
were  far  away  in  the  North.  In  the  Piegan  camp  she 
had  not  a  remaining  relative.  She  was  a  shy,  quiet 
slip  of  a  girl,  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  of  age. 
Just  now  she  was  more  than  usually  quiet,  never  speaking 
except  to  answer  a  question,  silently  crying  most  of  the 
time.  Nat-ah'-ki  remodelled  some  of  her  own  clothes 
for  her.  The  Crow  Woman  gave  her  a  shawl.  When 
she  appeared  dressed  in  a  neat  calico  dress,  her  hair 
nicely  braided  and  bound  with  a  deep  red  ribbon,  even 
Ashton's  aesthetic  sense  was  pleased.  "She  is  a  very 
comely  girl,"  he  remarked.  "Poor  thing!  Whatever 
will  become  of  her?" 

"Well,"  I  reminded  him,  "this  is  not  a  civilised  com- 
munity ;  she  will  be  welcomed  and  provided  for  by  any 
and  every  family  in  the  camp." 

Such  was,  indeed,  the  case.  Many  a  woman  came  to 

247 


248  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

our  lodge  and  asked  that  the  girl  might  live  with  her, 
each  one  saying  that  the  mother  had  been  her  particular 
friend,  or  that  her  own  daughter  was  the  friend  and  play- 
mate of  the  orphan,  and  for  that  reason  she  wished  to 
give  the  lone  one  a  home.  Nat-ah'-ki  invariably  told 
them  that  the  girl  was  free  to  go,  or  remain,  and  then 
the  latter  would  say  that  they  were  all  very  kind,  but 
she  preferred  to  stay  where  she  was  for  a  time. 

When  I  told  Ashton  what  these  visitors  were  asking, 
he  seemed  to  be  surprised,  and  said  that  he  had  rather 
doubted  my  view  of  their  kindliness  and  charity.  He 
sat  silently  musing  and  smoking  a  long  time  and  then, 
more  in  the  way  of  a  joke  than  seriously,  told  me  to  say 
to  the  girl  that  as  he  had  saved  her  from  the  Assini- 
boins,  he  thought  that  she  belonged  to  him ;  that  he  was 
now  her  father,  as  it  were.  But  this  was  no  joke  to  her; 
she  took  it  very  seriously  indeed,  and  replied:  "  I  know 
it;  he  is  now  my  chief;  I  take  his  words." 

This  unexpected  answer  certainly  surprised  Ashton, 
and  made  him  very  thoughtful. 

In  about  a  week  we  packed  up  and  moved  in  to  the 
Fort,  Nat-ah'-ki's  uncle  accompanying  us  to  drive  the 
horses  back  to  the  herd,  as  we  had  no  way  of  caring  for 
them.  We  ought  to  have  remained  longer  in  camp,  for 
the  ride  reopened  Ashton's  wound,  and  retarded  his 
complete  recovery.  After  reaching  the  Fort,  he  kept 
pretty  close  to  his  lounge  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  the 
young  orphan  waited  on  him,  highly  pleased  when  she 
could  save  him  a  few  steps.  To  pass  the  time,  he  taught 
her  simple  English  words,  and  short  sentences.  It  was 
really  laughable  sometimes  to  hear  her  mix  them  up,  as 
for  instance,  when  she  would  say,  "The  cow  he  is  water 
drink."  But  we  didn't  laugh,  for  if  we  had,  there  would 
have  been  an  end  to  the  lessons.  Many  a  promising 


NEVER-LAUGHS  GOES  EAST  249 

Indian  scholar  has  been  lost  by  the  thoughtless  ridicule 
of  his  teacher. 

Berry  returned  to  the  Fort  a  day  or  two  after  we 
arrived,  and  we  began  to  plan  for  the  winter's  trade  and 
to  make  lists  of  the  goods  needed.  Whether  we  should 
make  a  camp  trade,  or  build  a  post,  and  at  what  point, 
would  depend  entirely  on  the  Indians'  plans  for  the 
winter.  Ashton  intended  to  winter  with  us  wherever 
we  went,  but  one  day  he  received  a  letter  that  changed 
his  plans.  He  did  not  tell  us  more  than  the  fact  that 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  return  to  the  States  soon. 
In  fact,  he  had  never  spoken  of  his  affairs,  nor  his  family. 
All  we  knew  was  that  he  had  proved  to  be  a  good  com- 
panion, a  man  of  kindly  nature,  a  wholly  dependable 
man. 

"  I  am  not  very  inquisitive,  I  hope,"  said  Berry  to  me; 
"but  I'd  just  like  to  know  what  our  friend's  trouble  is, 
what  he  is  always  grieving  about,  and  what  it  is  that 
causes  him  to  go  back.  It's  plain  to  be  seen  that  he 
doesn't  want  to  go." 

I  felt  as  Berry  did,  but  no  more  than  he  could  I  say 
anything  to  Ashton  about  it. 

Several  steamboats  were  yet  to  arrive  before  the  close 
of  the  season,  and  he  deferred  his  departure.  One  even- 
ing, when  we  were  all  congregated  in  the  front  room,  the 
conversation  turned  to  his  impending  departure,  and  he 
said  that  he  would  return  to  us  as  soon  as  possible ;  if  not 
sometime  during  the  winter,  then  by  the  first  boat  in  the 
spring.  "And  now,"  he  continued,  "say  this  to  my 
little  girl;  tell  her  that  I  wish  to  take  her  with  me,  and 
put  her  in  school  down  there  with  a  lot  of  other  nice  little 
girls,  where  kind,  black- robe  women  will  care  for  her,  and 
teach  her  to  read,  and  write,  and  sew,  and  many  other 
good  and  useful  things." 


a  so  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

This  proposition  certainly  surprised  Berry  and  me, 
and  when  it  had  been  interpreted,  the  women  were  simply 
lost  in  astonishment.  A  long  silence  ensued;  we  all 
waited  for  the  girl  to  speak;  all  certain  that  she  would 
refuse  to  leave  us.  We  were  still  more  astonished,  if 
that  were  possible,  when  she  at  last  replied  that  she 
would,  go.  And  then  she  ran  to  Nat-ah'-ki,  hid  her  face 
in  her  lap,  and  cried.  We  men  got  our  hats  and  strolled 
out. 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  this  for  some  time,"  Ashton 
said  to  us,  after  we  had  sat  down  on  the  river  bank  and 
lighted  our  pipes.  "  I  am  curious  to  know  what  effect  a 
really  first-class  education  will  have  upon  the  girl,  and 
what  use  she  will  make  of  it.  Do  you  think  it  a  good 
plan?" 

"God  only  knows,"  Berry  replied.  "It  may  make 
her  very  unhappy;  it  certainly  will  if,  in  spite  of  high 
education  and  all  accomplishments,  the  whites  shall  still 
avoid  and  despise  her  because  she  is  an  Indian.  Again, 
it  might  make  of  her  a  noble  and  useful  woman.  I  ad- 
vise you  to  try  it,  anyway." 

"But,  Berry,  old  man!"  I  exclaimed,  "the  white 
people  do  not  despise  Indians.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
am  sure  that  they  highly  respect  those  of  them  who  are 
really  men." 

"I  guess  I  know  what  they  think,  what  they  do,"  he 
rejoined.  "I  am  only  half  Indian,  but  I  have  been 
abused  by  them  in  my  time." 

"Who  were  'they'?  "  I  asked.  "Were  they  men  fairly 
representative  of  the  white  people?  Or  were  they  the 
ignorant  and  low-down  ones?" 

He  acknowledged  that  he  had  ever  been  kindly  and 
respectfully  treated  by  the  former  class. 

"Well,"  Ashton  concluded,  "The  girl  goes  with  me. 


NEVER-LAUGHS  GOES  EAST  251 

I'll  take  her  to  St.  Louis  and  place  her  in  some  good 
institution,  preferably  one  managed  by  the  Sisters.  All 
that  money  can  pay  for  shall  be  done  for  her ;  moreover, 
I'll  make  my  will  and  provide  for  her  in  case  of  my  death. 
I'd  rather  she  should  have  what  I  leave,  than  anyone 
else." 

Early  one  morning  we  went  to  the  levee  to  see  them 
off.  On  the  previous  evening  the  girl  had  cried  bitterly 
while  the  few  things  that  we  could  provide  for  her  were 
being  packed,  and  Nat-ah'-ki  told  her  that  if  she  did  not 
wish  to  leave  us,  she  need  not  do  so,  that  Never-Laughs 
would  not  think  of  taking  her  away  against  her  will. 
The  girl  replied  that  she  would  do  as  he  wished.  "He 
saved  me,"  she  said:  "and  I  belong  to  him.  I  know 
that  he  means  well." 

The  boat  had  steam  up,  the  whistle  blew,  and  the 
passengers  went  aboard.  The  young  one  was  very  quiet, 
and  dry-eyed.  She  followed  Ashton  up  the  gang-plank, 
shawl  thrown  over  her  head  and  partly  concealing  her 
face,  and  they  went  up  on  the  upper  deck.  The  boat 
drew  out  into  the  stream,  slowly  turned,  and  then  swiftly 
disappeared  around  the  bend.  We  went  thoughtfully 
home. 

"  I  do  not  like  it  at  all,"  said  the  Crow  Woman.  "What 
have  we  to  do  with  white  peoples'  ways  and  learning? 
The  Sun  gave  us  these  plains,  and  these  mountains  and 
rivers,  the  buffalo  and  the  deer.  They  are  all  we 
need." 

"You  speak  truth,"  old  Mrs.  Berry  said  to  her.  "Yet 
I  am  glad  that  my  son  went  down  to  the  far  white  men's 
country,  for  what  he  learned  there  is  of  use.  He  can 
make  their  writing  and  read  it.  He  is  a  trader,  knowing 
how  to  buy  and  sell.  He  is  above  the  chiefs,  for  they 
come  to  him  for  advice." 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


"I  think,"  I  said,  "that  I  ought  to  have  sent  Nat- 
ah'-ki  along  with  them." 

"Just  hear  him!  "  she  cried,  seizing  me  by  the  shoulder 
and  pushing  me  out  of  the  trail.  "As  if  he  couldn't 
teach  me  himself.  But  he  will  not,  although  I  have 
asked  him  to  do  so  more  than  a  hundred  times." 

That  was  one  thing  Nat-ah'-ki  always  rather  regretted, 
her  inability  to  speak  English.  I  did  not  teach  it  to 
her,  for  I  early  realised  that  she  would  never  be  able  to 
master  some  of  our  consonants,  especially  b,  f,  1,  and  r, 
the  sounds  of  which  are  wholly  foreign  to  the  Blackfoot 
language.  Rather  than  hear  her  speak  our  tongue  in- 
correctly, I  preferred  that  she  should  not  speak  it  at  all. 
And  then,  I  spoke  her  language,  more  and  more  fluently 
as  time  went  by,  and  I  thought  that  we  were  sufficient 
unto  ourselves.  I  did  not  think  that  we  would  ever  be 
much  in  the  company  of  white  people,  especially  white 
women.  The  majority  of  the  latter,  those  who  lived 
upon  the  frontier,  hated  the  Indian  women,  especially 
those  married  to  white  men,  and  equally  they  hated, 
despised,  the  whites  who  had  married  them,  and  they 
lost  no  opportunity  to  show  their  ill-will. 

Berry  keenly  realised  this,  and  at  times  was  actually 
sick  at  heart  over  the  slights,  real  and  imagined,  but 
mostly  the  latter,  put  upon  him.  Once,  and  once  only  — 
it  was  soon  after  Ashton's  departure  with  his  prote'ge'e  — 
he  told  me  of  an  experience  he  had  gone  through,  which, 
I  think,  was  in  many  ways  the  most  peculiar  and  pathetic 
one  I  ever  heard.  It  so  burned  itself  into  my  memory 
that  I  can  repeat  it  word  for  word  as  he  related  it. 

"When  I  was  only  a  child,"  he  said,  "I  can  remember 
my  father  frequently  mentioning  the  property,  a  farm, 
he  owned  in  Missouri.  After  he  left  the  service  of  the 
American  Fur  Company,  he  became  an  independent 


NEVER-LAUGHS  GOES  EAST  253 

trader,  and  made  almost  yearly  trips  to  St.  Louis  to 
dispose  of  his  furs.  He  gradually  made  longer  and 
longer  stays  down  there,  and  finally  gave  up  trading 
altogether,  remaining  down  on  his  farm,  and  visiting  us 
only  occasionally.  Young  as  I  was,  I  had  a  great  desire 
to  become  a  trader  myself,  and  worked  hard  for  the  men 
with  whom  he  successively  placed  me,  beginning  with 
Major  Dawson,  the  company's  factor  here.  Dawson 
himself,  as  well  as  the  clerks,  seemed  to  like  me,  and  they 
all  helped  me  when  they  saw  that  I  was  trying  to  read  and 
write.  If  I  do  say  it,  I  believe  that  I  made  pretty  rapid 
progress,  more  rapid  that  my  father  thought  I  would. 
He  intended,  when  the  time  came,  to  send  me  to  school 
in  the  States. 

"There  came  a  time  when  he  had  been  away  from  us 
for  two  years,  and  my  friends  thought  that  they  would 
take  the  matter  into  their  own  hands  and  send  me  to  a 
school  they  knew  about  in  St.  Joe,  Missouri.  They  gave 
me  a  pocketful  of  money,  and  shipped  me  on  a  batteau 
which  pulled  out  early  in  September.  The  fare  down, 
by  the  way,  was  three  hundred  dollars,  but  I  was  dead- 
headed through.  It  was  a  long  and  tedious  trip,  espe- 
cially in  the  lower  part  of  the  river,  where  the  current 
was  slow  and  head  winds  delayed  us.  We  arrived  in  St. 
Joe  late  in  the  fall,  and  I  went  at  once  to  the  place  se- 
lected for  me,  a  boarding  school  which  also  took  in  day 
scholars.  Right  there  my  troubles  began.  While  a  few 
of  my  schoolmates  liked  me  and  were  very  kind,  the  most 
of  them  abused  me  and  made  fun  of  me  calling  me  'low- 
down  Injun'  and  many  other  names  which  hurt.  I 
stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  until,  in  fact,  they  began 
calling  me  coward.  Me  a  coward,  when  I'd  already 
been  in  two  battles  where  men  were  killed,  and  done  my 
share  of  the  shooting!  Well,  when  they  called  me  a 


254  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

coward,  I  just  waded  in  and  gave  three  or  four  of  them  a 
good  pounding,  although  I  was  in  no  way  used  to  that 
style  of  fighting.  After  that  they  left  me  alone,  but  all 
the  same  they  hated  me. 

"I  had  not  written  my  father  where  I  was,  as  I  had 
planned  a  little  surprise  for  him.  When  the  Christmas 
vacation  came,  I  started  to  pay  him  a  visit.  I  went  for 
some  distance  on  a  train,  and  thought  that  a  grand  ex- 
perience. Then  I  got  on  a  stage,  and  one  evening  was 
set  down  a  couple  of  miles  from  his  home.  I  went  on, 
inquiring  my  way,  and  about  dusk  I  came  in  sight  of  his 
house,  a  very  nice,  trim,  white-painted  one,  surrounded 
by  fine  fruit  and  other  trees.  Someone  was  coming  along 
the  road,  and  I  saw  that  it  was  my  father.  When  he 
recognised  me,  he  ran  and  threw  his  arms  around  me,  and 
kissed  me,  and  said  that  he  loved  me  best  of  all.  I  didn't 
understand  what  he  meant  by  best  of  all,  but  I  soon 
learned.  After  asking  me  all  manner  of  questions,  how 
I  had  come,  how  my  mother  and  all  his  friends  were,  he 
stood  silent  for  some  little  time,  leaning  on  my  shoulder, 
and  then  he  said:  'My  boy,  I  hoped  you  would  never 
learn  what  I  have  to  say,  at  least  not  until  after  my 
death.  But  now  I  must  tell  you  all:  In  that  house 
yonder  is  a  woman  to  whom  I  am  married,  and  there  are 
a  boy  and  a  girl,  our  children.  I  can  introduce  you 
there  only  as  a  friend,  as  the  son  of  an  old-time  Montana 
friend.  Oh,  shame  on  me  that  I  have  to  say  such  a 
thing!  Will  you  come?" 

"  'Yes,'  I  said,  'I  will  go  with  you,'  and  we  went  in. 

"She  was  a  very  kind  woman  that,  and  the  children, 
younger  than  I,  were,  as  well  as  she,  very  good  to  me.  I 
couldn't  help  but  like  them,  and  at  the  same  time  I  felt 
very  sad  about  it  all.  I  believe  that  I  cried  about  it  nights 
after  I  had  gone  to  my  room  and  to  bed. 


NEVER-LAUGHS  GOES  EAST  255 

"My  father  and  I  had  many  talks  in  private,  and  he 
told  me  over  and  over  again  that  he  loved  me  best ;  that 
I  was  first  in  his  thoughts.  Of  course,  I  could  not 
remain  there  long:  the  situation  was  too  trying.  In  the 
last  talk  we  had  there,  he  asked  me  if  I  intended  to  tell 
my  mother  what  I  had  learned,  and  I  replied  that  I  had 
no  intention  of  doing  so.  And  so  we  parted,  and  I 
returned  to  school.  To  this  day  my  mother  does  not 
know  anything  about  his  other  life.  He  comes  and 
stays  with  us,  sometimes  for  a  whole  summer,  and  she 
loves  him  so  that  I  am  sure  it  would  kill  her  to  learn 
what  he  has  done,  as  it  would  also  kill  the  other  woman 
to  know  it.  And  he  is  my  father.  I  love  him,  too.  I 
cannot  do  anything  but  love  him,  no  matter  what  he 
has  done." 

I  may  add  that  the  old  gentleman  was  true  to  his 
word.  So  long  as  he  was  able,  he  continued  to  visit  his 
Montana  son  and  wife,  and  when  he  died,  we  found 
that  his  will,  executed  several  years  previous  to  the  time 
Berry  visited  him,  bequeathed  the  greater  part  of  his 
property  to  the  first  and  favourite  son.  He  was  a  man 
of  good  education,  and  interested  in  everything  that 
pertained  to  the  West.  He  entered  the  service  of  the 
American  Fur  Company  when  it  was  organised,  in  1822 
or  1823,  and  rose  to  be  one  of  its  prominent  factors. 
For  many  years  he  kept  a  diary  of  the  daily  occurrences 
in  his  active  life,  which  included  much  regarding  the 
Indians  he  met,  their  customs  and  traditions.  He  was 
preparing  them  for  publication  when  they  were  destroyed 
in  a  fire  which  burned  down  his  house.  That  was  a 
loss  which  many  of  us  regret. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    WAR    TRIP    OP    QUEER    PERSON 

IT  WAS  about  time  for  us  to  be  doing  something 
besides  loafing  at  the  Fort.  Berry  saddled  a  horse 
one  morning  and  rode  out  to  the  camp  on  the  Marias  to 
interview  the  chiefs.  When  he  returned,  a  day  or  two 
later,  he  was  more  than  satisfied  with  the  result  of  the 
council,  for  it  was  agreed  that  the  winter  should  be  passed 
on  the  Marias.  We  could  use  the  post  that  had  been 
built  two  years  previously.  It  needed  some  repairs,  but 
by  the  middle  of  September  we  were  well  established 
there,  with  a  good  stock  of  goods.  The  chief  difficulty 
in  moving  out  was  our  inability  to  keep  the  bull-whackers 
sober.  One  of  them,  Whisky  Lyons,  was  the  worst 
I  ever  saw.  He  never  was  on  hand  to  help  load  the 
wagons,  and  when  we  were  ready  to  pull  out  we  had  to 
hunt  him  up,  tie  a  rope  under  his  arms  and  souse  him  in 
the  river  until  he  came  to  his  senses.  There  was  another, 
"Captain"  George,  whose  specialty  was  a  singing  spree. 
He  had  a  large  store  of  quaint  songs,  which  he  would 
sing  unendingly  when  drunk. 

I  have  often  wondered  whatever  became  of  the  old- 
time  bull- whackers,  they  who  spent  their  money  so  freely 
and  joyously  whenever  they  had  the  opportunity.  I 
never  heard  of  them  dying.  I  never  saw  them  after  the 
advent  of  the  railroads  and  the  close  of  transportation 
on  the  upper  Missouri.  They  simply  vanished. 

There  was  little  for  us  to  do  until  the  prime  winter 


WAR  TRIP  OF  QUEER  PERSON  257 

robes  began  to  come  in.  The  Piegans  had  moved  out 
on  Milk  River  back  of  the  Sweetgrass  Hills,  and  would 
not  return  to  stay  until  cold  weather  drove  them  in.  A 
few  were  coming  and  going  all  the  time,  bringing  in 
beaver  skins,  some  to  exchange  for  ammunition,  tobacco, 
and  liquor;  others  to  obtain  the  same  from  us  on  credit. 
We  missed  Sorrel  Horse,  who  had  gone  down  on  the 
Missouri  somewhere  below  the  mouth  of  the  Judith,  to 
run  a  woodyard,  and  to  trade  with  the  Gros  Ventres. 
He  was  always  good  company.  During  the  time  of  slack 
trade,  Berry  was  as  uneasy  as  the  proverbial  fish  out 
of  water.  Always  a  very  nervous,  active  man,  he  could 
not  be  happy  unless  he  was  doing  something.  I  have 
seen  him  throw  and  shoe  a  bull  that  did  not  need  shoeing, 
or  repair  an  old  wagon  wheel  that  could  never  be  of  any 
service.  But  his  most  dangerous  hobby  was  medicine. 
An  army  surgeon  had  given  him  a  fine,  large  medicine 
chest,  which  contained  dozens  of  bottles  of  drugs,  drawers 
full  of  knives,  saws,  probes,  and  various  other  instruments 
of  torture,  lint,  plasters,  splints — an  exceedingly  large 
variety  of  things.  When  any  of  us  felt  sick  we  con- 
cealed the  fact  from  him  if  possible,  lest  he  should  dose 
us  into  our  graves. 

One  day  our  friend,  Four  Bears,  the  camp-crier,  a 
man  of  great  dignity,  came  in  complaining  that  he  felt 
very  ill.  Berry  was  interested  at  once. 

"I  think,"  he  said  to  me,  after  he  had  diagnosed  the 
case,  "that  I  have  exactly  the  remedy  he  needs.  A 
Seidlitz  powder  will  fix  him  all  right.  Yes,  that's  what 
he  needs  for  sure.  I'll  give  him  a  double  dose."  Where- 
upon he  emptied  two  of  the  white  paper  powders  into  a 
glass  of  water  and  had  the  patient  gulp  it  down.  He  then 
discovered  that  he  had  forgotten  to  put  in  the  powder 
contained  in  the  green  papers. 


2S8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  '"tisn't  too  late,  I'll  just  dissolve 
them  in  more  water.  I  guess  they'll  mix  all  right  in  his 
stomach." 

They  did.  Four  Bears  swallowed  them  and  instantly 
an  expression  of  surprise,  of  terror,  spread  over  his  face. 
He  began  to  gasp;  he  bent  nearly  double  and  pressed 
the  pit  of  his  stomach ;  then  he  dropped  to  the  floor  and 
rolled  and  rolled,  while  the  foaming  mixture  spouted 
from  his  mouth  and  nostrils,  as  does  the  contents  of  a 
seltzer  siphon  when  the  lever  is  pressed.  Fortunately, 
the  agony  didn't  last  long,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  the 
orator  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  fled  across  the  bottom  to 
his  lodge.  We  didn't  see  him  again  for  a  month  or  more. 
After  that  the  Indians  seldom  applied  to  Berry  for  relief. 
When  they  did,  they  required  him  to  take  a  dose  of  his 
prescription  before  they  would  touch  it,  and  they  would 
stand  around  for  a  while  and  watch  to  see  how  it  affected 
him. 

But  if  Berry  was  at  his  wit's  end  for  something  to  do, 
'twas  different  with  me;  no  day  was  too  long.  Nat- 
ah'-ki  and  I  went  hunting,  either  in  the  river  bottoms 
for  deer,  or  out  on  the  plains  for  antelope.  Buffalo,  of 
course,  were  everywhere;  and  down  below  the  post  some 
ten  or  twelve  miles  there  were  quite  a  number  of  bighorn. 
And  then  the  evenings  were  as  full  of  interest  as  the  days. 
What  more  pleasant  than  to  be  with  the  women  where 
the  flames  and  glowing  coals  in  the  rude  fireplace,  light- 
ing up  the  grim  log  walls  of  the  room,  seemed  a  fit 
accompaniment  to  the  quaint  tales  they  so  earnestly  and 
reverently  told.  My  dingy  old  note-books  contain  the 
outlines  of  those  happy  days,  and  as  I  look  over  them  it 
all  comes  back  to  me  as  vividly  as  if  it  all  had  happened 
yesterday,  or  last  week.  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  story 
the  Crow  Woman  related  one  evening  which  may  interest 


>«*« 


Queer  Person  " 


WAR  TRIP  OF  QUEER  PERSON  259 

you  as  much  as  it  did  me.  She  called  it  the  "  Story  of 
Three  Stabs": 

"  In  all  the  village  there  were  none  poorer  than  White 
Flying  and  her  young  grandson.  Her  man  was  long  since 
dead;  her  son-in-law  had  been  killed  by  the  Sioux,  and 
her  daughter,  while  working  in  their  little  plantation  one 
day,  had  suddenly  dropped  to  the  ground  and  ceased 
breathing.  The  boy  was  still  too  young  to  go  on  the 
hunt,  so  they  lived  on  what  small  store  of  corn  they  could 
raise,  and  what  portions  of  meat  were  given  them  by  the 
kind  hearted.  There  were  days  when  they  went  to  bed 
hungry,  for  their  best  friends  sometimes  forgot  to  pro- 
vide for  them,  and  White  Flying  was  too  proud  to  go 
out  and  beg.  When  this  happened,  the  boy  would  say, 
'Never  mind,  grandmother,  wait  until  I  grow  up  and 
I'll  kill  more  meat  than  you  can  take  care  of.' 

"The  boy's  name  was  Sees  Black,  a  name  an  old 
medicine  man  had  given  him  when  he  was  born.  No 
one  but  his  grandmother  so  called  him;  he  was  nick- 
named Queer  Person,  for  he  had  ways  different  from  those 
of  any  other  boy  ever  heard  of.  He  never  played  with 
other  children,  never  laughed  nor  cried,  and  scarcely 
spoke  to  anyone  except  his  grandmother.  He  seemed 
to  be  dreaming  of  something  all  the  time ;  and  would  sit 
on  the  bank  of  the  river,  or  on  the  hill  near  the  village, 
often  for  half  a  day,  looking  straight  away  into  the  far 
distance  as  if  he  saw  there  things  of  great  interest — so 
great  that  he  never  noticed  people  who  passed  near  him. 
He  brought  strange  and  forbidden  things  to  his  lodge; 
once,  a  human  skull,  which  he  placed  under  the  end  of 
his  couch.  When  making  up  his  bed  one  day,  the  old 
woman  found  it,  and  it  frightened  her  so  that  she  fell 
right  down  and  was  dead  for  a  while.  When  she  came 
to  life,  she  begged  him  to  take  it  back  to  the  place  where 


260  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

he  had  found  it,  and  he  did  so  as  once,  for  he  was  a  good 
boy  and  always  obeyed  her.  When  she  asked  him  why 
he  had  taken  it, he  replied, 'I  am  seeking  a  great  medicine. 
I  thought  that  if  I  slept  by  it  I  might  have  a  powerful 
dream.' 

"  Sometimes  he  would  leave  the  village  and  stay  away 
all  night;  and  when  his  grandmother  asked  him  where 
he  had  been,  he  would  tell  her  that  he  had  gone  upon  the 
plain,  or  down  in  the  timber,  or  out  on  a  sandbar,  to 
sleep,  hoping  that  some  of  the  spirits  or  animals  who 
wander  about  in  the  darkness,  would  have  pity  and  give 
him  the  medicine  he  sought. 

"  While  other  boys  of  his  age  still  played,  he  made  bows 
and  arrows.  He  watched  the  flint  workers,  and  became 
as  skilful  as  they  in  chipping  out  sharp,  thin  arrow 
points.  He  hunted,  too ;  at  first,  rabbits  in  the  rosebush 
thickets;  and  then,  one  day,  he  brought  home  a  fine  deer 
— a  part  of  the  meat  at  a  time — which  he  had  shot  on  a 
trail  they  used  in  going  to  and  from  their  watering  place. 
After  that  he  seldom  hunted  rabbits,  but  often  brought 
in  deer,  and  once  in  a  while  the  hide  and  meat  of  a  buffalo 
which  he  crept  up  on  and  killed  in  a  coulee,  or  at  the 
river  where  they  went  to  drink.  Still,  they  were  very 
poor;  all  the  family  horses  had  long  since  been  given 
the  doctors  who  had  tried  to  cure  the  grandfather. 
Without  horses  Queer  Person  could  not  go  out  on  the 
big  hunts  and  bring  in  loads  of  meat  sufficient  to  last 
during  the  bad  weather,  or  through  the  long  sieges  of 
the  Sioux  against  them.  In  the  summer  time  this  enemy 
came  often  in  great  numbers  and  stayed  around  the 
village  for  a  whole  moon  and  more,  hoping  to  starve 
the  people  and  fall  upon  them  when  at  last  they  were 
obliged  to  go  out  to  hunt. 

"The  summers  and  the  winters  passed.    The  boy 


WAR  TRIP  OF  QUEER  PERSON          261 

grew  and  grew,  tall  and  strong,  and  very  fine-looking. 
He  was  now  old  enough  to  go  to  war ;  to  fight  the  enemy 
and  drive  away  their  horses.  But  no  war  party  would 
let  him  join  them.  'One  who  slept  with  skulls,'  they 
said,  'who  went  forth  to  sleep  where  the  ghosts  wan- 
dered— there  was  surely  something  wrong  with  such  a 
person;  he  would  cause  bad  luck  to  befall  them.' 

"  Of  course,  the  young  man  felt  very  badly  about  this, 
grieving  much ;  and  the  grandmother  grieved  with  him. 
And  then  he  became  angry.  'I  will  make  them  take 
back  their  words,'  he  said  to  the  old  woman.  'I  will  go 
against  the  enemy  by  myself,  and  the  time  shall  come 
when  they  will  beg  to  go  with  me.  Make  me  a  boat  and 
I'll  float  down  the  river  to  the  camps  of  the  Sioux.' 

"White  Flying  went  out  and  cut  the  willows,  crossed 
and  recrossed  them,  bent  them  to  the  proper  shape, 
then  stretched  and  bound  upon  the  frame  the  fresh  hide 
of  a  big  bull,  and  the  boat  was  done.  No,  it  was  not 
like  the  boats  of  the  white  men.  It  was  flat  on  the 
bottom  and  round,  like  the  tubs  white  people  have  for 
washing  clothes.  Unless  one  was  accustomed  to  them, 
he  was  helpless,  for,  if  he  did  not  upset  when  he  tried  to 
paddle,  he  would  only  make  the  boat  whirl  around  and 
around  like  a  child's  top,  and  it  would  drift  wherever 
the  current  and  the  wind  chose  to  push  it. 

"There  was  a  full  moon  now,  and  one  night  when  it 
rose,  soon  after  the  sun  had  gone  down,  Queer  Person 
got  into  his  boat  and  pushed  it  out  from  the  shore.  No 
one  was  there  to  see  him  leave,  except  his  grandmother; 
no  one  else  in  the  village  knew  that  he  was  going  away. 
'Oh,  be  careful!'  she  said.  'Be  ever  on  the  watch  for 
the  dangers,  and  try  nothing  that  you  are  not  certain  you 
can  do.' 

"  'Take  courage,'  he  called  back  to  her.     'I  will  return 


a62  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

to  you;  I  will  surely  return.  My  dream  has  told  me  that 
I  will.' 

"The  poor  old  woman  sat  down  on  the  shore,  covered 
her  head  with  her  robe,  and  cried;  cried  for  those  loved 
ones  who  were  dead,  and  for  the  young  man  who  was 
going,  perhaps,  to  join  them  and  leave  her  alone  in  her 
old  age.  She  was  very  unhappy. 

"On  and  on  Queer  Person  drifted  in  the  bright  moon- 
light, down  the  wide,  deep  river,  never  paddling  except 
to  keep  facing  down  stream  and  to  avoid  the  snags  and 
sandbars.  The  beavers  played  and  splashed  around  him, 
and  he  prayed  to  them:  'Pity  me,'  he  said;  'give  me  of 
your  cunning,  so  that  I  may  escape  all  danger.' 

"  Where  the  water  boiled  and  swirled  under  the  shadow 
of  a  high- cut  bank,  some  dim  thing  rose  above  the  surface, 
and  slowly  sank  and  disappeared.  He  could  not  see  it 
plainly;  it  might  have  been  one  of  the  people  who  live 
in  the  dark,  deep  places;  he  prayed  to  them  also,  and 
dropped  a  sacrifice  to  them.  'Do  not  harm  me,'  he  said; 
'let  me  pass  over  your  waters  in  safety.' 

"  All  the  animals  of  the  valley  seemed  to  be  gathered 
along  the  shores,  feeding,  drinking,  the  young  of  elk  and 
deer  running  and  playing  along  the  sandbars.  There 
were  big  bears  snuffling  and  pawing  at  the  water's  edge ; 
wolves  and  coyotes  looked  down  at  him  as  he  passed 
under  the  low  bluffs.  But  none  paid  any  attention  to 
him,  for  there  was  no  wind,  and  they  could  not  know 
that  an  enemy  was  near.  Thus  the  night  passed,  and 
with  the  daylight  he  went  to  the  shore,  dragging  his  boat 
into  some  thick  willows  and  then  smoothing  off  the  trail 
he  had  made  across  the  sands. 

"Thus  drifting  by  night  and  hiding  in  the  daytime, 
Queer  Person  kept  on  toward  the  country  of  the  Sioux. 
Every  morning,  after  going  ashore,  he  would  walk  out 


WAR  TRIP  OF  QUEER  PERSON  263 

to  the  edge  of  the  timber,  sometimes  climbing  a  nearby 
slope,  and  look  carefully  up  and  down  the  valley  for 
signs  of  people.  He  saw  none  until  the  fifth  morning, 
when  he  discovered  a  great  camp  directly  across  the 
river  in  a  big  bottom.  There  was  a  long  strip  of  cqtton- 
woods  bordering  the  stream ;  the  lodges  were  pitched  on 
the  open  plain  back  of  it.  A  large  number  of  horses 
were  tied  in  the  camp,  people  were  just  coming  out  and 
turning  them  loose  to  graze.  'My  medicine  is  good.'  he 
said  to  himself.  'I  have  come  safely  down  the  river,  and 
here  I  am  in  sight  of  that  which  I  seek.' 

"During  the  day  he  slept  for  some  time,  feeling  quite 
safe  where  he  was,  for  the  enemy  had  no  boats,  the  river 
was  very  high,  and  they  could  not  cross.  He  made  plans 
for  the  night.  'I  will  cross  over,'  he  said,  'after  the  light 
in  their  lodges  dies  out;  I  will  take  some  of  their  horses, 
and  ride  homeward  as  fast  as  I  can.'  All  the  afternoon 
this  thought  pleased  him,  and  then  came  into  his  heart 
another  thing  which  he  considered.  Any  one  could  go 
into  a  camp  and  take  horses  and  have  a  good  chance  to 
escape  with  them.  That  was  easy  to  do.  His  people 
had  refused  to  let  him  go  with  them  on  raids ;  he  wanted 
to  do  some  great  thing,  to  show  them  that  he  was  a 
braver  man  than  any  of  them.  What  should  he  do  to 
prove  this?  What  could  he  do?  He  considered  many 
things,  many  plans,  and  could  not  decide.  Toward 
evening  he  slept  again,  and  then  his  dream  helped  him 
and  showed  him  the  way  to  make  a  great  name  for 
himself. 

"  This  is  what  he  did ;  listen  to  the  cunning  his  dream 
gave  him:  In  the  night  he  crossed  the  river,  put /some 
stones  in  his  boat,  then  cut  a  hole  in  the  bottom,  so  that 
it  filled  with  water  and  sank.  Then  he  went  into  the 
timber  and  buried  his  things  beside  a  large  cottonwood 


«64  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

log,  buried  his  clothes,  moccasins,  weapons;  nothing 
remained  on  him,  except  his  belt  and  breech-clout. 
Lastly,  he  unbound  his  braided  hair,  washed  it  to 
straighten  out  the  kinks,  then  tangled  it  and  scattered 
dust  in  it.  He  smeared  mud  and  dust  on  his  body; 
soiled  his  breech-clout;  scratched  his  legs  with  a  rose 
bush ;  when  he  had  done,  he  looked  very  wild,  very  poor. 
He  went  out  of  the  timber,  down  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
bottom,  and  remained  there  the  rest  of  the  night. 

"  When  the  sun  came  up  and  people  were  moving  about 
Queer  Person  arose  and  walked  toward  the  camp,  some- 
times stopping  and  looking  around,  sometimes  running, 
again  walking  slowly,  looking  at  the  ground.  Thus  he 
approached  the  lodges,  and  the  great  crowd  of  people 
who  stood  staring  at  him.  He  pretended  not  to  see 
them,  walking  straight  on;  they  parted  to  let  him  pass 
and  then  followed  him.  He  stopped  by  a  fire  outside  a 
lodge,  upon  which  some  meat  was  roasting,  and  sat 
down.  The  women  tending  it  fled.  The  people 
gathered  around  him  and  stood  and  talked.  Of  course, 
they  thought  him  crazy.  A  man  came  up,  asked  him 
many  questions  in  signs;  he  did  not  reply,  except 
occasionally  to  point  down  the  river.  This  man  had  a 
wide  scar  on  his  left  cheek.  Queer  Person  knew 
that  he  was  a  chief.  He  had  heard  his  people  talk 
about  him  as  a  terrible  man  in  battle.  After  a  time  an 
old  woman  came  and  set  some  broiled  meat  before  him ; 
he  seized  it  and  ate  it  as  if  he  had  been  starving  for  many 
days.  He  ate  a  great  deal,  and  a  long  time.  The  people 
mostly  went  away  to  their  lodges.  The  scar-faced  man 
made  signs  again,  but  when  he  got  no  answer  he  took 
Queer  Person  by  the  arm,  made  him  get  up,  and  led  him 
to  his  lodge,  showed  him  a  couch,  made  signs  that  it  was 
his,  that  he  should  live  in  the  lodge.  Still  the  young 


WAR  TRIP  OF  QUEER  PERSON          265 

man  pretended  not  to  understand,  but  he  remained  there, 
going  out  sometimes  but  always  returning.  People  made 
him  presents — moccasins,  leggings,  a  buckskin  shirt,  a 
cowskin  robe.  He  put  them  on  and  wore  them.  After 
a  few  days  he  would  walk  about  in  camp,  and  the  people 
would  hardly  notice  him.  They  had  got  used  to  seeing 
him  around. 

"Queer  Person  soon  found  that  the  scar-faced  chief 
was  a  very  cruel  man.  He  had  five  wives,  the  first  one 
older  than  he,  and  very  ugly.  The  others  were  all  young 
women,  and  good-looking,  one  very  pretty.  The  old 
wife  abused  the  others,  made  them  do  all  the  work  and 
labour  hard  all  day  long.  Sometimes  she  struck  them; 
often  she  would  talk  to  the  chief,  and  he  would  get  up 
and  beat  them  or  seize  a  couple  and  knock  their  heads 
together.  They  were  very  unhappy.  The  young  man 
could  not  help  but  look  often  at  the  youngest  one,  she 
was  so  pretty  and  so  sad.  He  would  always  walk  around 
where  she  was  at  work,  and  met  her  often  in  the  grove 
when  she  gathered  wood,  and  then  they  would  smile  at 
each  other.  After  many  days,  he  found  her  all  alone  in 
the  woods  one  evening;  his  time  had  come,  and  he 
quickly  told  her  in  signs  who  he  was,  that  he  was  not 
crazy;  that  he  had  started  all  alone  to  war.  And  then 
he  said  that  he  loved  her ;  that  it  made  him  sad  to  see 
her  abused.  He  asked  if  she  would  go  away  with  him 
and  be  his  woman.  She  did  not  answer,  but  she  just 
stepped  up  and  clung  to  him  and  kissed  him.  Then 
they  heard  some  one  coming,  and  they  parted. 

"The  next  day  they  met  again  in  the  timber  and 
went  and  hid  in  the  thicket  willows,  and  made  their 
plans  to  leave.  They  could  hardly  wait  for  night  to 
come. 

"  When  the  fire  had  died  out  and  the  chief  and  his  old 


a66  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

wife  snored,  Queer  Person  and  the  young  woman  crept 
out  of  the  lodge  and  went  to  the  river.  There  they  tied 
together  two  small  logs  and  placed  their  clothes  upon 
them,  on  top  of  a  little  pile  of  brush  they  had  laid.  The 
young  man  got  his  clothes  and  weapons  which  he  had 
buried,  and  piled  them  there  also.  Then,  with  nothing 
but  his  knife,  he  went  back  to  the  lodge,  leaving  the 
woman  by  the  raft.  He  crept  in,  and  over  to  the  chief's 
couch,  raised  his  knife  and  gave  him  one  deep  stab  right 
in  the  heart,  then  another  and  another.  The  man  did 
not  cry  out,  but  he  kicked  a  little  and  the  old  woman 
beside  him  awoke.  Queer  Person  at  once  seized  her  by 
the  throat  and  strangled  her  until  she  lay  still.  Then  he 
scalped  the  chief,  took  his  weapons,  and  ran  back  to  the 
raft.  The  woman  was  waiting  for  him,  and  together 
they  waded  out,  pushing  the  logs,  and  when  they  got 
into  deep  water  they  swam,  holding  on  to  the  logs  with 
one  hand.  Thus  they  crossed  the  river  and  dressed  and 
started  on  the  long  walk  to  the  Arickaree  village.  Back 
across  whence  they  had  come,  all  was  quiet;  the  trouble 
there  had  not  yet  been  discovered. 

"What  a  proud  old  woman  White  Flying  was  when 
her  grandson  returned  home  with  his  pretty  wife,  with 
the  scalp  and  the  weapons  of  the  terrible  chief.  He  had 
made  a  great  name :  in  time  he  himself  would  be  a  chief. 
And  he  did  become  one,  the  head  chief  of  his  people. 
No  one  any  longer  called  him  Queer  Person :  he  took  the 
name  Three  Stabs,  and  all  were  proud  to  call  him  that.' 
He  and  his  good  wife  lived  to  great  age.  They  had 
many  children  and  were  happy," 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  PIEGANS   MOVE  IN 

GET  UP!"  Nat-ah'-ki  commanded,  grasping  my  arm 
and  nearly  pulling  me  out  of  bed.  "Get  up! 
It  is  very  happy  outside." 

"Why  did  you  awake  me?"  I  asked.  "I  was  hav- 
ing such  a  good  dream." 

"Of  course  you  were,  and  you  were  talking,  too. 
That  is  why  I  awoke  you;  I  don't  want  you  to  dream 
about  her.  Tell  me,  quick,  what  the  dream  was,  and 
what  she  said." 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,  she  said — she  said — she 
said " 

"Yes,  hurry!     What  did  she  say?" 

"She  said,  'It's  time  for  you  to  arise  and  wash.  I 
have  your  morning  food  cooked,  and  we  are  going  hunt- 
ing to-day.'  " 

"Oh,  what  a  lie  he  can  tell!"  she  exclaimed,  turning 
to  the  Crow  Woman.  "  He  was  not  dreaming  about  me 
at  all,  because  he  spoke  in  his  own  language." 

I  insisted  that  I  was  speaking  the  truth.  "In  the 
first  place,"  I  said,  "there  is  no  'her'  but  you,  and  even 
if  there  were,  her  shadow  could  not  come  away  out  here 
to  visit  me  in  my  sleep,  because  it  would  be  unable  to 
find  the  trail." 

This  reasoning  was  convincing,  and  closed  the  argu- 
ment. It  was  indeed  a  lovely  morning.  There  had 
been  a  heavy  frost  during  the  night,  the  grass  in  the 
shadow  of  the  Fort  was  still  white  with  it,  but  the  sun 

267 


a68  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

was  shining  in  a  clear  sky,  a  warm  southwest  wind  had 
started  up — everything  was  auspicious  for  a  perfect 
autumn  day. 

We  breakfasted,  saddled  our  horses,  and  rode  out  a- 
cross  the  river,  up  the  slope  of  the  valley,  and  out  on  the 
plain.  Nat-ah'-ki  began  to  sing  one  of  the  women's 
songs  of  her  people.  "Be  still!"  I  told  her.  "This 
is  no  way  to  hunt;  you  will  scare  away  all  the  game." 

"I  do  not  care  if  I  do,"  she  said.  "What  matter? 
We  have  still  some  dried  meat  on  hand.  I  can't  help 
singing;  this  happy  morning  just  makes  me  do  it." 

As  she  said,  it  did  not  matter.  It  was  pleasant  to  see 
her  so  happy,  to  see  her  eyes  sparkle,  to  hear  her  laugh 
and  sing.  A  not  distant  band  of  antelope  scampered 
away  over  a  ridge;  out  of  a  nearby  coulee  rushed  a 
small  band  of  buffalo  and  loped  off  westward;  a  lone 
coyote  also  appeared,  sat  down  on  his  haunches,  and 
stared  at  us.  "  Hai-ya',  little  brother,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki, 
addressing  him,  "are  you  also  happy?" 

"Of  course  he  is,"  she  continued.  "His  fur  is  so 
thick  and  warm  that  he  does  not  fear  the  coming  cold, 
and  he  has  plenty,  oh,  always  plenty  of  food.  Some  he 
kills  for  himself,  and  he  can  always  feast  on  the  re- 
mains of  the  animals  his  big  relations  kill.  Old  Man 
gave  him  and  the  wolf  great  intelligence." 

We  rode  on  and  on  aimlessly  across  the  plain,  talking 
and  laughing,  very,  very  happy,  as  two  young  people 
should  be  who  love  one  another  and  who  haven't  a  care 
in  the  world.  Often,  on  reaching  the  top  of  some  little 
eminence,  we  would  dismount  and  let  the  horses  graze 
while  I  smoked  and  swept  the  country  with  my  tele- 
scope. Nat-ah'-ki  also  loved  to  use  the  glass,  and  watch 
the  various  animals  it  would  bring  so  near  to  one,  as 
they  rested  or  grazed,  or  the  young  bounded  and 


THE  PIEGANS  MOVE  IN  269 

skipped  and  chased  each  other  in  their  exuberance  of 
spirits.  It  was  a  powerful  glass,  that  old  telescope,  reveal- 
ing even  the  dead  old  cones  and  dark  abysses  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  moon.  But  that  was  an  object  at  which 
I  never  succeeded  in  coaxing  her  to  level  the  instrument. 
Night  Light  to  her  was  no  dead  old  globe,  but  a  real  and 
sacred  personage — wife  to  the  Sun — and  not  to  be 
scrutinised  and  studied  by  mortal  eyes. 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  we  decided  that  it  was 
time  we  should  get  the  meat  we  had  started  after  and 
return  home.  We  were  about  to  mount  and  ride  toward 
a  coulee  to  the  west,  where  a  few  buffalo  were  feeding, 
when,  away  to  the  north,  we  saw  columns  of  dust  rising, 
and  nearer,  some  bunches  of  buffalo,  loping  in  various 
directions,  but  mostly  toward  us.  A  few  moments  later 
a  number  of  horsemen  came  in  sight,  and  behind  them, 
on  the  top  of  a  long  ridge,  appeared  a  long  column  of 
riders  and  loose  animals. 

"Ah!"     I    said,    "the    Pe-kun-ny    are    moving   in." 

"My  mother  is  there.  Let  us  go  to  meet  them," 
said  Nat-ah'-ki. 

Some  of  the  startled  buffalo  were  making  almost  a 
bee-line  for  the  place  where  we  stood,  so  I  told  her  to 
lead  the  horses  back  out  of  sight,  and  I  myself  moved 
down,  so  that  I  could  just  look  over  the  top  of  the  ridge. 
In  a  short  time  some  thirty  or  forty  of  the  animals  came 
within  easy  range.  I  aimed  at  a  big  cow,  and  broke  the 
left  front  leg  the  first  shot;  she  dropped  behind  the 
others  at  once,  and  a  second  shot  laid  her  low.  She 
proved  to  be  very  fat,  and  her  coat  was  fine,  not  quite  of 
full  length,  perhaps,  but  very  dark  and  glossy. 

I  was  about  to  cut  the  animal  open  on  the  back,  in- 
tending to  take  only  the  boss  ribs  and  the  tongue,  when 
Nat-ah'-ki  came  up  and  insisted  that  I  should  properly 


27o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

skin  it  for  a  head-and-tail  robe,  and  cut  up  all  of  the 
meat  for  packing.  "We  will  give  the  hide  to  my 
mother,"  she  said,  "and  get  her  to  pack  in  the  meat  for 
us." 

So  I  did  as  I  was  told,  of  course ;  the  butchering  taking 
some  little  time.  Meanwhile  Nat-ah'-ki  went  to  the  top 
of  the  ridge,  but  soon  returned  to  say  that  the  people 
were  pitching  camp  near  where  we  had  discovered 
them,  and  that  it  would  be  pleasant  to  remain  with  them 
for  a  night. 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "we'll  go  over  and  stop  with 
Weasel  Tail.  We'll  take  a  little  of  the  meat  and  leave 
the  rest  and  the  hide  for  your  mother  to  pick  up  in  the 
morning." 

But  that,  it  seemed,  would  not  do.  "Either  the 
wolves  will  feast  upon  it  in  the  night,"  she  said,  "or 
someone  will  find  and  take  it  in  the  early  morning;  so, 
to  be  sure,  let  us  pack  it  into  camp." 

I  spread  the  great  hide  over  her  horse,  entirely  cover- 
ing the  animal,  saddle  and  all,  from  neck  to  tail,  and 
then  hung  the  greater  part  of  the  meat  across  it  over  the 
saddle,  covering  it  all  by  folding  and  refolding  the  hide. 
The  rest  I  put  in  two  large  meat  sacks  and  tied  behind 
my  saddle.  Then  I  helped  Nat-ah'-ki  to  get  up  and 
perch  on  top  of  her  load,  mounted  my  animal,  and  we 
wended  our  way  to  camp  and  in  among  the  lodges. 
There  were  pleasant  greetings  and  pleasant  smiles  for 
us  on  every  hand,  and  some  jokes  were  made  about  the 
young  married  hunters.  We  dismounted  in  front  of 
Weasel  Tail's  lodge.  My  good  mother-in-law  ran  and 
met  her  daughter,  the  two  affectionately  embracing  and 
kissing  each  other,  the  former  repeatedly  saying,  "My 
daughter!  My  daughter!  She  has  arrived." 

And  the  good  woman  looked  at  me  and  smiled,  but 


THE  PIEGANS  MOVE  IN  271 

gave  me  no  greeting.  Even  in  being  in  my  vicinity,  to 
say  nothing  of  smiling  at  me,  she  had  broken  a  strict  rule 
of  Blackfoot  etiquette,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken, 
which  is  that  mother  and  son-in-law  must  never  meet  nor 
speak  to  each  other.  For  my  part,  I  transgressed  this 
form  at  the  very  first  opportunity.  I  came  upon  the 
good  woman  when  she  could  not  escape,  nor  help  listen- 
ing, and  told  her  that  with  us  it  was  to  be  different; 
that  white  people  had  no  such  custom.  "Wherever 
we  are,"  I  continued,  "you  are  to  come  and  live  with  us 
when  you  will,  and  I  shall  go  where  you  are  when  oc- 
casion to  do  so  arises." 

I  am  sure  that  my  words  pleased  her,  as  they  also 
pleased  Nat-ah'-ki.  In  time  she  became  used  to  the 
new  order  of  things,  in  a  way,  but  was  always  rather 
backward  about  directly  addressing  me.  Very  often, 
when  I  asked  her  for  information  about  something,  she 
would  turn  to  her  daughter  and  say,  "Tell  him  that  it 
was  in  this,  way,"  etc, 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
A  WOLVERINE'S  MEDICINE 

WE  CAMPED  with  Weasel  Tail,  whose  good  woman 
spread  out  a  number  of  new  robes  for  our  use. 
Visitors  came  and  went,  and  we  were  called  to  several 
smokes  at  different  places.  In  the  latter  part  of  the 
evening,  after  the  feasting  and  visiting  was  over,  Weasel 
Tail  andTalks-with-the-buffalo.the  two  inseparables,  and 
I  were  again  together,  as  we  had  been  on  many  a  previous 
night.  There  were  no  three  smokes  and  then  the  polite 
dismissal  when  we  got  together,  no  matter  which  of  us 
was  host.  We  would  sit  together  for  hours,  smoking 
when  we  felt  like  it,  talking  or  idly  silent,  as  the  mood 
struck  us.  The  women  passed  around  some  berry  pem- 
mican,  which  was  fine.  "Friend,"  said  Talks-with- 
the-buffalo,  after  we  had  eaten  and  the  pipe  was  again 
filled  and  lighted,  "I  have  a  present  for  you." 

"  Ah ! "  I  replied,  "  I  am  always  glad  to  get  presents. " 
"Yes,"  he  continued,  "and  I  will  be  glad  to  get  rid 
of  this.  I  want  you  to  take  it  to-morrow  morning,  lest 
something  happen  that  you  never  get  the  thing.  It  is 
a  wolverine  skin.  Listen  and  I  will  tell  you  what  trouble 
it  has  caused  me.  First,  as  to  the  way  I  got  it:  One 
morning  my  woman  here  told  me  to  kill  some  bighorn ; 
she  wanted  their  skins  for  a  dress.  I  said  that  those 
animals  were  too  difficult  to  get ;  that  she  ought  to  make 
her  dress  of  antelope  skins,  which  also  make  fine  soft 
leather  when  well  tanned.  But,  no ;  they  would  not  do ; 
they  were  uneven,  thick  on  the  neck,  too  thin  on  the 

373 


A  WOLVERINE'S  MEDICINE  273 

belly;  nothing  would  do  but  bighorn  skins,  because 
they  were  all  of  the  right  kind — neither  thick  nor  very 
thin  in  any  place.  I  tried  to  get  out  of  it  by  saying  that 
if  she  must  have  them  I  would  require  her  to  go  on  the 
hunt  with  me,  and  help  pack  down  what  I  killed.  I 
thought  that  when  I  said  this,  she  would  make  up  her 
mind  that  antelope  skins  were  good  enough.  I  was 
mistaken.  'Of  course,  I'll  go  with  you/  she  said.  'Let 
us  start  in  the  morning.' 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  pretend  to  be  sick; 
but  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  hunt,  and  after  I  had  got  up  and  washed,  I 
ate  a  big  meal.  When  I  did  remember,  it  was  too  late. 
I  couldn't  get  her  to  believe  that  I  was  sick,  after  mak- 
ing her  broil  meat  twice.  We  started,  and  rode  as  far 
as  our  horses  could  carry  us,  up  the  north  side  of  the 
west  Sweetgrass  Mountain;  then  we  tied  the  animals 
and  went  on  afoot.  It  was  pretty  steep  climbing;  in 
places  the  pines  grew  so  closely  together  that  we  could 
hardly  squeeze  between  them.  My  hunting  partner 
was  always  behind.  'Come  on;  come  on,'  I  kept  say- 
ing; and  'Wait,  wait  for  me,'  she  was  always  calling, 
and  when  she  caught  up  she  would  be  breathing  like  a 
horse  that  has  run  a  race,  and  sweat  would  just  drip  off 
her  chin.  'It  is  very  pleasant,  this  bighorn  hunting,' 
I  told  her;  and  she  said,  'You  speak  the  truth.  Just 
look  how  high  up  we  are,  and  how  far  we  can  see  the 
plains  away  northward.' 

"After  that  I  did  not  tease  her,  because  she  had  good 
courage,  and  did  her  best  to  climb.  I  travelled  slower, 
and  she  kept  close  behind  me.  We  approached  the 
summit.  The  top  of  that  mountain — you  have  seen  it 
— is  a  mystery  place.  When  Old  Man  made  the  world 
he  painted  the  rocks  he  placed  there  with  pretty  colours, 


a74  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

red,  brown,  yellow  and  white.*  Some  say  that  it  is  a 
lucky  place  to  hunt;  others,  that  if  one  kills  anything 
there,  he  will  have  bad  luck  of  some  kind.  I  thought 
of  this  as  I  climbed,  and  at  last  I  stopped  and  spoke  to 
my  woman.  I  told  her  that  we  had,  perhaps,  better  go 
back  on  account  of  the  bad  luck  we  might  have  if  I 
made  a  killing  there.  But  she  just  laughed  and  laughed, 
and  said  that  I  was  getting  to  be  very  foolish. 

"  'Well,'  I  said  to  her,  'if  you  must  laugh,  do  so  with 
your  hand  over  your  mouth,  else  you  will  scare  every- 
thing on  this  mountain.' 

"We  continued  climbing,  and  in  a  little  while  came 
to  the  summit.  Looking  out  at  it  from  the  cover  of 
some  pines,  I  saw  a  band  of  bighorn,  maybe  twenty  or 
more,  all  she  ones,  and  their  young,  except  a  two-year- 
old  male.  I  took  a  careful  aim  at  him — he  was  close 
by  and  standing  side  to  me — and  as  it  was  handy,  I 
rested  my  gun  on  a  limb  of  a  tree.  I  took  a  very  good 
aim,  right  for  his  heart,  and  fired.  I  don't  know  where 
the  bullet  went,  but  I  am  sure  that  it  never  hit  him,  for 
we  could  find  neither  hair  nor  blood  where  he  had  stood 
nor  along  his  trail.  When  I  shot,  the  smoke  hung  like  a 
little  cloud  before  me,  and  when  it  blew  away,  I  saw 
the  animals,  just  as  they  disappeared  into  the  timber 
down  the  slope.  I  was  much  surprised  that  I  had  not 
killed  the  animal,  most  surprised  when  I  found  that  I 
had  not  even  hit  him,  for  I  had  aimed  so  long  and  so 
carefully. 

"  'You  must  have  hit  him,'  said  my  woman.  'Let  us 
look  again.  We  will  likely  find  him  lying  dead  some- 
where far  away.' 

"We  followed  his  trail  for  some  distance  down  in  the 


*  They  are  porous  burnt  quarts,  that  seems  to  have  been  thrown  up  through 
a  seam  in  the  porphyry. 


A  WOLVERINE'S  MEDICINE  275 

timber;  it  was  easy  to  follow,  for  his  track  was  larger 
than  that  of  the  others ;  but  there  was  no  sign  at  all  that 
he  was  hurt.  We  climbed  up  on  top  again,  and  sat 
down  at  the  edge  of  the  bare  rocks,  in  the  shelter  of  a  low 
pine.  I  thought  that  if  we  stayed  here  a  while  some 
more  bighorn  might  come  along.  But  none  appeared, 
although  we  sat  and  watched  until  long  after  the  middle 
of  the  day.  We  were  about  to  leave,  when  a  big  wol- 
verine appeared,  walking  among  the  rocks,  smelling 
and  snuffing,  sometimes  climbing  up  on  top  of  a  big 
rock  to  look  all  around.  He  looked  very  pretty,  his  hair 
just  shining  in  the  sun.  He  soon  came  near,  and  the 
next  time  he  climbed  upon  a  rock  I  shot  him.  He  fell 
off  it  and  hardly  kicked.  I  told  my  woman  to  skin  it 
carefully.  I  knew  you  would  want  it  to  go  with  those 
you  got  last  winter.  She  said  that  she  would  tan  it  very 
soft,  and  we  would  make  you  a  present  of  it.  The  bad 
luck  began  right  there.  She  cut  her  hand — the  knife 
slipped — before  she  had  half  got  the  hide  off,  and  I  had 
to  finish  the  work.  Then  we  started  homeward.  When 
we  got  to  the  horses  I  tied  the  skin  behind  my  saddle 
and  got  astride.  The  horse  had  been  standing  with  his 
head  to  the  wind,  and  when  I  turned  him  he  got  the  scent 
of  the  wolverine  for  the  first  time,  and  it  frightened  him 
so  that  he  went  crazy.  He  snorted  and  made  a  big  high 
jump  down  the  mountain,  and  when  he  struck,  the  jar 
threw  me  off,  right  on  my  back  into  a  lot  of  stones.  I 
thought  I  was  broken  in  two.  The  horse  went  on,  jump- 
ing, and  kicking,  and  snorting,  right  into  a  pile  of  big 
rocks,  where  he  got  caught  by  a  foreleg,  and  broke  it. 
As  soon  as  I  got  my  breath  and  could  walk  and  my 
woman  found  my  gun  I  had  to  go  down  and  shoot  him. 
We  were  late  getting  home,  for  we  rode  double  on  the 
other  horse,  and  had  to  hang  on  it  my  saddle  and  other 


276  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

things.  One  thing  we  had  learned:  It  was  bad  luck  to 
kill  anything  on  the  painted  rocks.  Maybe,  if  I  had 
killed  the  sheep  also,  my  back  would  have  been  really 
broken  when  I  was  thrown  by  the  horse. 

"It  was  some  days  before  I  recovered  from  the  sore- 
ness caused  by  my  fall.  My  woman  could  not  tan  the 
wolverine  skin  on  account  of  her  sore  hand,  so  she  got  a 
widow  to  do  it.  The  next  morning  the  old  woman 
brought  back  the  skin.  'Take  it,'  she  said.  'I  have 
been  sick  all  night,  and  in  my  dream  a  wolverine  came 
and  tried  to  bite  me.  It  is  bad  medicine.  I  will  not 
tan  it.' 

"You  know  old  Beaver  Woman?  Yes?  We  gave 
the  skin  to  her.  She  said  that  she  wasn't  afraid  of 
wolverines,  that  her  medicine  was  stronger  than  theirs. 
Well,  she  took  it  to  her  lodge  and  went  to  work,  fleshed 
it,  put  on  the  liver  and  brains,  rolled  it  up  and  laid  it 
away  for  two  or  three  days.  When  it  was  well  soaked 
with  the  mixture,  she  cleaned  it  and  began  to  dry  it, 
working  it  over  the  sinew  cord,  when  she  suddenly  fell 
over  dead  for  a  short  time.  When  she  came  to  life  her 
mouth  was  drawn  around  to  one  side  and  she  could 
hardly  speak.  She  was  that  way  about  four  nights.  Of 
course,  the  skin  came  back  to  us.  The  cut  on  my  wo- 
man's hand  had  healed,  so  she  went  to  work  and  finished 
the  tanning,  and  without  any  mishap. 

"Day  before  yesterday  we  started  to  move  in;  my 
woman  packed  the  skin  with  other  things  on  the  lodge- 
skin  horse.  When  we  made  camp  in  the  evening,  the 
skin  was  missing.  Everything  else  that  had  been  placed 
in  the  pack  was  there,  the  skin  only  was  gone.  While 
we  were  wondering  how  it  could  have  happened,  a  young 
man  rode  up  and  tossed  it  to  us.  'I  found  it  on  the  trail.' 
he  said. 


'  We  rode  double  on  the  other  horse ' " 


A  WOLVERINE'S  MEDICINE  277 

"So,  you  see,  this  skin  is  powerful  bad  medicine.  I 
said  that  I  was  going  to  give  it  to  you,  and  I  now  do  so. 
Also  I  have  told  you  all  the  evil  it  has  done.  I  shall  not 
blame  you  if  you  throw  it  in  the  fire,  or  otherwise  dis- 
pose of  it.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  take  it  off  our  hands." 

Of  course,  I  accepted  the  skin.  In  time  it  became 
part  of  a  handsome  robe;  a  small  bear  skin  in  the  centre, 
the  border  of  six  wolverines. 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  were  in  the  saddle  next  morning  long 
before  the  lodges  began  to  come  down,  and  started  home- 
ward. It  had  been  a  very  warm  night.  Soon  after  we 
left  camp  a  light  wind  sprang  up  from  the  north,  cold, 
damp,  and  with  a  strong  odour  of  burning  grass.  We  knew 
the  sign  well  enough;  the  smoky  smell  was  always  the 
precursor  of  a  storm  from  the  north.  "The  Cold-maker 
is  near,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki.  "Let  us  hurry  on." 

Looking  back,  we  saw  that  the  Sweetgrass  hills  had 
become  enveloped  in  a  dense  white  fog,  which  was  sweep- 
ing southward  with  incredible  swiftness.  It  soon  over- 
took us,  and  was  so  thick  that  we  could  not  see  a  hundred 
yards  ahead.  The  sweat  on  our  horses  instantly  froze; 
fine  particles  of  frost  filled  the  air;  our  ears  began  to 
tingle,  and  we  covered  them  with  handkerchiefs.  It  was 
useless  to  attempt  to  look  out  a  course  to  the  river,  so  we 
gave  our  horses  the  reins  and  kept  them  going,  and 
arrived  home  before  noon.  The  wind  had  steadily  in- 
creased, the  fog  had  gone,  but  snow  had  taken  its  place. 
Winter  had  come. 

Prime  robes  soon  began  to  come  in,  and  we  were  kept 
pretty  busy  exchanging  goods  and  spirits  for  them.  For 
convenience,  we  used  brass  checks  in  trading,  each  check 
representing  one  dollar.  Having  some  robes  to  sell,  an 
Indian  would  stalk  in,  followed  by  one  or  more  of  his 
women  carrying  them,  and,  as  a  rule,  he  would  stand  at 


278  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

a  little  distance,  very  silent  and  straight,  his  robe  or 
blanket  partly  concealing  his  face,  while  we  examined 
them  and  counted  down  the  checks.  Unless  he  needed 
a  gun  or  some  such  expensive  article,  he  generally  gave 
his  women  a  part  of  the  proceeds,  and  invested  the  rest 
himself  in  whatever  took  his  fancy;  tobacco  always, 
generally  some  liquor.  They  always  wanted  to  taste  of 
the  liquor  before  buying,  and  we  kept  for  that  purpose  a 
pailful  of  it  and  a  cup  behind  the  counter,  which  was 
four  and  a  half  feet  in  height.  There  was  seldom  any 
objection  to  the  strength  of  the  article  we  sold,  which 
was  alcohol  of  high  proof,  mixed  with  five  parts  of  water. 
A  few  moments  after  one  of  these  extremely  haughty 
customers  had  taken  a  drink,  his  manner  changed.  He 
became  quite  affable  and  loquacious,  and  before  leaving 
would  sometimes  wish  to  embrace  and  kiss  all  present, 
including  the  traders.  It  was  not  often  that  any  of  them 
became  cross  with  us,  their  quarrels  generally  taking 
place  in  camp.  Nor  were  they,  on  the  whole,  much 
more  quarrelsome  than  so  many  white  men.  We  did 
little  trading  after  dark,  most  of  the  people  preferring 
to  come  in  the  morning  to  barter  their  fur  and  robes.  I 
never  knew  a  trader  who  had  not  some  especial  and 
privileged  friends,  and  we  were  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
Several  of  these  would  sometimes  come  and  sit  with  us 
of  an  evening  to  smoke  and  tell  stories,  and  every  little 
while  either  Berry  or  I  would  pass  around  the  cup,  but 
not  too  frequently.  It  was  very  interesting  to  listen  to 
their  tales,  and  queer  conceptions  of  various  things. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
LITTLE  DEER'S  END 

THEN  there  were  days  when  the  warm  chinook  was 
blowing,  that  simply  drew  one  out  of  the  Fort  and 
away  on  the  plain.  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  would  saddle  a 
couple  of  horses  and  ride  a  great  circle,  returning  home 
tired  and  hungry  and  ready  to  retire  right  after  the 
evening  meal,  to  sleep  soundly  through  the  long  winter 
night.  One  fine  day  we  were  out,  and  along  about  2  or 
3  o'clock  struck  the  river  some  five  or  six  miles  above  the 
Fort  and  turned  homeward  down  the  valley.  Riding 
along  the  trail  through  a  grove  of  cottonwoods  we  met 
mine  enemy,  Little  Deer,  in  quest  of  beaver,  as  he  had 
some  traps  tied  to  his  saddle.  He  leered  at  Nat-ah'-ki, 
who  happened  to  be  in  the  lead,  and  scowled  savagely 
at  me  as  we  passed.  I  must  confess  that  I  bent  in  the 
saddle  once  or  twice,  pretending  to  adjust  my  stirrup 
leather,  but  really  furtively  looking  back  under  my  arm. 
I  was  certainly  afraid  of  him  and  felt  relieved  when  I 
saw  him  disappear  around  a  bend  of  the  trail  without 
once,  so  far  as  I  could  determine,  turning  to  look  back 
at  us. 

Passing  through  the  grove  we  crossed  an  open  flat, 
went  into  another  piece  of  timber,  and  then  out  on  a  wide, 
bare  bottom.  When  about  150  or  200  yards  from  the 
last  grove  a  gun  boomed  behind  us  and  a  bullet  whizzed 
past  my  left  side  and  kicked  up  the  dust  when  it  struck 
the  ground  farther  on.  Nat-ah'-ki  shrieked,  whipped  up 
her  horse  and  called  to  me  to  hurry,  and  we  made  pretty 

379 


a8o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

good  time  the  rest  of  the  way  home.  When  the  shot 
was  fired  I  looked  back  and  saw  a  thin  cloud  of  smoke  in 
front  of  some  willows,  but  no  man.  It  was  Little  Deer 
who  had  shot,  of  course,  and  he  had  come  near  hitting 
me.  He  had  done  just  what  I  had  always  predicted  he 
would  do — attack  me  from  behind;  and  from  such  a 
position  as  he  was  in  it  would  have  been  folly  to  attempt 
to  dislodge  him. 

Nat-ah'-ki  was  well-nigh  speechless  from  terror  and 
anger.  I  was  angry,  too,  and  swore  that  I  would  kill 
Little  Deer  at  sight.  Berry  listened  quietly,  but  made 
no  comment  until  after  supper,  when  we  had  quieted  down. 

"You  see,"  he  began,  "that  fish  has  some  powerful 
relations  in  camp,  and  although  they  know  well  enough 
that  he  needs  killing,  they  are  nevertheless  bound  to 
avenge  his  death." 

"Well?"  I  asked,  "and  am  I  to  do  nothing,  and  some 
day  be  potted  from  an  ambush?" 

"No,"  he  replied.  "We've  got  to  kill  him,  but  it 
must  be  done  in  such  a  manner  that  we  will  never  be 
suspected.  Just  lay  low  and  we  will  find  some  way  to  do  it." 

After  that  day  Little  Deer  came  no  more  to  the  Fort. 
If  he  needed  anything  he  sent  someone  to  purchase  it 
for  him.  When  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  rode  we  went  out  on 
the  open  plain,  avoiding  the  coulees  and  the  timber  in  the 
valley.  Sometimes,  of  a  night,  Berry  and  I  would  try 
to  devise  some  way  to  effectively  get  rid  of  my  enemy, 
but  we  never  succeeded.  Could  I  have  waylaid  him,  or 
shot  him  from  behind,  as  he  had  attempted  to  do  to  me, 
I  would  gladly  have  done  so — one  should  always  fight 
the  devil  with  his  own  weapons. 

It  was  a  day  in  the  fore  part  of  March  when  Little  Deer 
was  missed  from  the  camp.  The  previous  morning  he 
had  gone  out  with  some  other  hunters  on  the  plains  north 


LITTLE  DEER'S  END  281 

of  the  river  to  kill  some  meat.  They  had  separated 
finally,  but  late  in  the  afternoon  several  of  them  had 
seen  the  missing  man  on  a  butte  skinning  a  buffalo. 
During  the  night  his  horse  had  returned  and  joined  the 
band  to  which  it  belonged,  still  saddled  and  trailing  its 
lariat.  Relatives  of  Little  Deer  went  out  and  continued 
to  search  for  him  for  several  days,  and  at  last  they  found 
him  a  long  distance  from  the  carcass  of  the  buffalo  he 
had  skinned  and  cut  up.  He  was  lying  in  a  coulee  and 
the  top  of  his  head  was  crushed  in.  His  wives  and 
female  relatives  buried  him,  but  the  wives  did  not  mourn ; 
he  had  been  very  cruel  to  them  and  they  were  glad  to  be 
free.  The  meat  of  the  buffalo  he  had  killed  had  all  been 
neatly  cut  up  and  prepared  for  loading  on  the  horse. 
It  was  thought  that  he  had  left  the  place  to  kill  something 
else  and  had  been  thrown,  or  that,  perhaps,  his  horse 
had  fallen  with  him  and  had  kicked  him  in  its  struggles 
to  rise. 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  rejoiced  when  we  learned  this.  She 
herself  was  the  first  to  hear  of  it  and  came  running  in, 
all  excitement,  her  eyes  sparkling,  and  gave  me  a  hearty 
squeeze. 

"Be  happy,"  she  cried.  "Our  enemy  is  dead;  they 
have  found  his  body;  we  can  ride  where  we  please  and 
without  fear." 

One  night  my  old  friend  whom  I  have  variously  called 
Bear  Head  and  Wolverine — he  took  the  former  name  after 
a  successful  battle  he  was  in — paid  us  a  visit.  He  stayed 
long  after  all  the  others  had  gone,  silently  smoking,  much 
preoccupied  about  something.  Both  Berry  and  I  no- 
ticed it  and  spoke  about  it. 

"  He  probably  wants  a  new  gun,"  I  said,  "  or  maybe  a 
blanket  or  a  new  dress  for  his  woman.  Whatever  it  is 
I'll  give  it  to  him  myself." 


283  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

We  were  getting  sleepy.  Berry  brought  out  a  drink 
and  handed  it  to  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  "tell  us  about 
it;  what  is  on  your  mind?" 

"I  killed  him,"  he  replied.  "I  killed  him  and  carried 
his  body  to  the  coulee  and  dropped  it." 

This  was  news  indeed.  We  knew  at  once  to  whom  he 
referred,  none  other  than  Little  Deer.  "Ah!"  we  both 
exclaimed,  and  waited  for  him  to  continue. 

"I  rode  up  to  where  he  was  tying  his  meat  and  got 
off  my  horse  to  tighten  the  saddle.  We  got  to  talking 
and  he  told  about  shooting  at  you.  'I  don't  see  how  I 
missed/  he  said,  'for  I  took  careful  aim.  But  I'm  not 
done.  I'll  kill  that  white  man  yet,  and  his  woman 
shall  be  my  woman,  even  if  she  does  hate  me.1 

"His  words  made  me  mad.  'Kill  him!'  something 
said  to  me.  'Kill  him,  lest  he  kill  your  friend  who 
has  been  so  good  to  you.'  He  was  bending  over  tying 
the  last  pieces  of  meat ;  I  raised  my  rifle  and  struck  him 
right  on  top  of  his  head,  and  he  fell  forward,  his  shadow 
departed.  I  was  glad  that  I  did  it." 

He  arose  and  prepared  to  leave.  "Friend,"  I  said, 
grasping  his  hand  and  heartily  shaking  it,  "what  is  mine 
is  yours.  What  can  I  give  you?" 

"Nothing,"  he  replied.  "Nothing.  I  am  not  poor. 
But  if  I  ever  am  in  need  then  I  will  come  and  ask  for 
help." 

He  went  out  and  we  closed  and  barred  the  door. 
"Well,  I'll  be  damned  if  that  isn't  the  best  turn  I  ever 
knew  an  Indian  to  do  for  a  white  man,"  Berry  exclaimed. 
"He's  sure  a  friend  worth  having." 

For  obvious  reasons  we  kept  what  we  had  learned  to 
ourselves,  although  I  had  a  struggle  to  do  so.  It  was 
years  afterward  when  I  finally  told  Nat-ah'-ki  about  it, 
and  when  the  time  came  that  our  friend  certainly  did 
need  help  he  got  it. 


LITTLE  DEER'S  END  283 

We  had  with  us  that  winter  one  Long-haired  Jim, 
bull-whacker,  a  man  about  forty  years  of  age.  He  wore 
hair  that  was  at  least  two  feet  long  and  which  fell  in 
dark,  rippling  waves  very  gracefully  over  his  back  and 
shoulders.  When  on  the  road  or  out  at  work  in  the 
wind  he  kept  it  braided,  but  in  camp  it  was  simply  con- 
fined by  a  silk  bandage  bound  around  his  head.  He 
was  very  proud  of  it  and  kept  it  nicely  washed  and 
combed. 

Jim  had  made  various  trips,  he  claimed,  on  the  Santa 
Fe"  and  the  Overland  Trails,  and  had  drifted  up  into 
Montana  from  Corinne.  According  to  his  own  story, 
he  was  a  great  fighter,  a  successful  gambler,  but  these 
advantages,  he  said,  were  offset  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
terribly  unlucky  in  love.  "I  have  set  my  affections  on 
four  different  females  in  my  time,"  he  told  us,  "an'  I'll 
be  dog-goned  ef  I  got  ary  one  of  'em." 

"I  come  mighty  close  to  it  once,"  he  continued. 
"She  was  a  red-haired  widow  what  kept  a  boardin' 
house  in  Council  Bluffs.  We  rolled  in  there  one  evenin', 
an'  as  soon  as  we  had  corralled,  all  hands  went  over  to 
her  place  fer  supper.  As  soon  as  I  set  eyes  on  her  I 
says  to  myself,  'That's  a  mighty  fine  figger  of  a  woman.' 
She  was  small,  an"  slim,  an'  freckled,  with  the  purtiest 
little  turn-up,  peart  nose  as  ever  happened.  'Who  is 
she?'  I  asked  a  feller  settin'  next  me. 

"  '  A  widder,'  he  says,  'she  runs  this  here  place.' 

"That  settled  it.  I  went  to  the  wagon-boss,  told  him 
I  quit,  drew  my  pay,  an'  packed  my  beddin'  and  war-sack 
over  to  her  place.  The  next  evenin'  I  caught  her  settin' 
out  on  the  steps  all  by  herself  and  walked  right  up  to 
her.  'Mrs.  Westbridge,'  I  says,  'I've  sure  fell  in  love 
with  you.  Will  you  marry  me?' 

"  'Why,  the  idear!'    she  cried  out.     'Jest  listen  to 


284  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  man;  an*  him  a  stranger.  Scat!  git  out  o'  here!' 
An'  she  up  aa  run  into  the  house,  an'  into  the  kitchen, 
an'  slammed  an'  locked  the  door. 

"That  didn't  make  no  difference  to  me.  I  wa'n't 
ordered  to  leave  the  house,  so  I  staid  right  on,  an'  put 
the  question  to  her  every  chanct  I  got,  sometimes  twict 
a  day.  She  got  sost  she  didn't  run,  took  it  kinder  good- 
natured  like,  but  she  always  gave  me  a  straight  'No' 
for  an  answer.  I  wa'n't  no  way  discouraged. 

"Well,  it  run  along  a  matter  of  two  weeks,  an,  one 
evenin'  I  asked  her  again;  'twas  the  twenty-first  time, 
which  number  bein'  my  lucky  one,  I  considered  it  sure  to 
win.  An'  it  did. 

"  'Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Jim  What's-yer-name,'  she  says, 
straight  out,  Til  marry  yer  on  certain  conditions: 

"  'You  must  cut  your  hair.' 

"  'Yep.' 

"  'An'  throw  away  them  six-shooters  an'  that  long 
knife.' 

"  'Yep.' 

"  'An'  quit  gamblin.' 

"  'Yep.' 

"  'An'  help  me  run  this  yere  boardin'  house.' 

"Yes,  I  agreed  to  it  all,  an'  she  said  we'd  be  married 
the  comin'  Sunday.  I  asked  her  fer  a  kiss,  but  she 
slapped  my  face  an'  run  off  into  the  kitchen.  'Never 
mind,'  I  says,  settin'  down  on  the  steps,  Til  wait  till 
she  comes  out  an'  ketch  her.' 

"Wai,  sir,  I  was  a  settin1  there  all  peaceful  an'  happy 
like,  when  along  comes  an  ornery-lookin'  one-leg  cripple 
an'  asks,  'Is  this  whar  Miss  Westbridge  lives?' 

"  '  It  are,'  I  said.     'An'  what  might  you  want  of  her? ' 

"  'Oh,  nothing',  he  says,  "cept  she's  my  wife.' 

"I  allow  I  might  have  swatted  him,  even  if  he  was  a 


LITTLE  DEER'S  END  285 

cripple,  if  the  woman  hadn't  come  out  just  then.  When 
she  see  him  she  just  throwed  up  her  hands  and  cried  out: 
'My  Gawd!  Wherever  did  you  come  from?  I  thought 
you  was  dead.  They  told  me  you  was.  Are  you  sure 
it's  you?' 

"  'Yes,  Sairy,'  he  said.  'It's  me  all  right;  that  is, 
what's  left  of  me.  It  was  reported  that  I  died,  or  was 
missin',  but  I  pulled  through.  I  been  trailin'  you  a 
long  time.  It's  a  long  story ' 

"I  didn't  wait  to  hear  it.  Went  up  to  my  room 
and  sat  down.  After  a  while  she  come  up.  'You  see 
how  'tis,'  she  said.  'I've  got  to  take  care  of  him.  Yer 
a  good  man,  Jim;  I  admire  yer  spunk,  a  askin'  and  a 
askin',  an  never  takin'  "no"  fer  an  answer.  As  it  is,  ef 
you  care  fer  me  I  wisht  you'd  go.' 

"I  packed  right  up  an'  pulled  out.  No,  I  never  did 
have  no  luck  with  women.  Sence  that  happened  I 
ain't  had  a  chance  to  tackle  another  one." 

Jim  took  great  interest  in  Nat-ah'-ki  and  me.  "My 
Gawd!"  he  would  say,  "just  hear  her  laugh.  She's 
sure  happy.  I  wisht  I  had  such  a  nice  woman." 

He  spent  much  time  in  the  trade  room,  and  went  often 
through  the  camp  seeking  to  make  a  conquest  of  some 
fair  damsel.  He  was  really  ridiculous,  smiling  at  them, 
bowing  and  saying  something  in  English  which  none 
could  understand.  The  maidens  turned  away  from 
him  abashed.  The  men  looking  on  either  scowled  or 
laughed  and  joked  and  named  him  the  One-unable-to- 
marry,  a  very  bad  name  in  Blackfoot. 

The  main  trouble  was  that  he  wore  an  immense 
moustache  and  chin  whiskers.  The  Blackfeet  abhorred 
hair,  except  that  of  the  head.  An  old  acquaintance 
never  buttoned  his  shirt  winter  nor  summer;  his  breast 
was  as  hairy  as  a  dog's  back.  I  have  seen  the  Blackfeet 


286  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

actually  shudder  when  they  looked  at  it.  But  a  happy 
day  was  coming  for  Jim.  On  a  trip  out  from  Fort  Ben- 
ton,  Berry  brought  him  a  letter  containing  great  news. 
A  woman  back  in  Missouri  whom  he  had  known  from 
childhood  had  consented  to  marry  him.  He  left  for 
the  States  at  once  by  the  way  of  Corinne.  We  heard 
from  him  several  months  later:  "Dear  friends,"  he 
wrote,  "she  died  the  day  before  I  got  here.  I'm  sure 
grevin'.  They's  a  nuther  one  here,  but  she's  got  seven 
children,  an'  she's  after  me.  I  take  the  Santy  Fd  trail 
to-morrer.  Hain't  I  sure  out  of  luck?" 

By  the  same  mail  we  heard  from  Ashton.  He  was 
in  Genoa,  Italy,  and  expected  to  be  with  us  in  the  spring. 
He  also  wrote  that  he  was  getting  good  reports  of  his 
prote'ge'e's  progress.  A  little  later  there  came  a  letter 
for  Nat-ah'-ki  from  the  girl  herself,  which  was  very 
touching.  It  was  in  print,  and  read,  including  some 
additions  by  the  Sisters:  "I  can  read.  I  can  write. 
The  Sisters  are  good  to  me.  I  have  pretty  dresses. 
When  I  sleep  I  see  the  lodges  and  the  people,  and  I  smell 
the  kak-sim-i'  (sage).  I  love  you.  Diana  Ashton." 

Dear  me!  but  Nat-ah'-ki  was  proud  of  that  letter. 
She  carried  it  around  and  showed  it  to  her  friends  and 
had  me  translate  it  many  times.  She  made  several 
beautiful  pairs  of  moccasins  for  the  child,  and  after 
we  returned  to  Fort  Benton  in  the  spring  had  me  ship 
them  on  a  steamboat  with  a  lot  of  pemmican,  dried 
meat  and  tongues,  and  a  big  bunch  of  sagebrush.  I 
objected  to  sending  the  pemmican  and  meat,  saying  that 
the  girl  had  all  the  food  she  wanted  and  the  very  best. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  contemptuously,  "white  people's 
food;  nothing  food.  I  know  she  is  hungry  for  real  food." 

We  had  a  good  trade  that  winter,  but  troublous  times 
succeeded.  A  part  of  the  Piegans,  the  Bloods  and  Black- 


LITTLE  DEER'S  END  287 

feet  became  a  real  terror  to  the  whites  in  the  country, 
and  it  was  really  unsafe  to  try  to  trade  outside  of  Fort 
Benton.  We  passed  the  following  two  winters  there. 
In  January  of  the  second  one  the  Baker  massacre  oc- 
curred, and  the  Indians  at  once  quieted  down.  In  the 
spring  of  1870  we  began  to  plan  for  another  season  at 
some  more  or  less  distant  point. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THB    WAYS    OF    THE    NORTHLAND 

A  LAW  prohibiting  the  sale  of  liquor  to  Indians,  or 
even  its  transportation  across  the  Indian  coun- 
try, had  been  practically  a  dead  letter  ever  since  Con- 
gress passed  it.  Along  in  the  fall  of  1869,  however,  a 
new  United  States  marshal  appeared  in  the  country  and 
arrested  several  traders  who  had  liquor  in  their  possession, 
confiscated  their  outfits,  and  made  them  all  sorts  of 
trouble.  So  long  as  this  man  remained  in  office  it  seemed 
as  if  the  trade  was  doomed,  and  Berry  wisely  hit  upon 
the  plan  of  crossing  the  line  into  Canada  and  establish- 
ing a  post  there.  True,  there  would  be  some  trouble 
in  transporting  the  forbidden  goods  from  Fort  Benton 
northward  to  the  line,  but  chances  had  to  be  taken. 

Miss  Agnes  E.  Laut,  author  of  "Lords  of  the  North," 
"Heralds  of  the  Empire,"  etc.,  in  her  "Tales  of  the 
Northwest  Mounted  Police"  has  this  to  say  about  the 
exodus:  "  It  was  in  the  early  seventies  that  the  monop- 
oly of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  ceased  and  the  Do- 
minion Government  took  over  judicial  rights  in  all  that 
vast  territory  which  lies  like  an  American  Russia  be- 
tween the  boundary  and  the  North  Pole.  The  ending 
of  the  monopoly  was  the  signal  for  an  inrush  of  adven- 
turers. Gamblers,  smugglers,  criminals  of  every  stripe, 
struck  across  from  the  Missouri  into  the  Canadian  terri- 
tory at  the  foothills  of  the  Rockies.  Without  a  white 
population,  these  riff-raff  adventurers  could  not  ply 
their  usual  'wide-open'  traffic.  The  only  way  to  wealth 

288 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND    289 

was  by  the  fur  trade;  and  the  easiest  way  to  obtain  the 
furs  was  by  smuggling  whisky  into  the  country  in 
small  quantities,  diluting  this  and  trading  it  to  the 
natives  for  pelts.  Chances  of  interference  were  nil,  for 
the  Canadian  Government  was  thousands  of  miles  dis- 
tant without  either  telegraph  or  railway  connection. 
But  the  game  was  not  without  its  dangers.  The  country 
at  the  foothills  was  inhabited  by  the  Confederacy  of  the 
Blackfeet — Bloods,  Piegans  and  Blackfeet — tigers  of 
the  prairie  when  sober,  and  worse  than  tigers  when 
drunk.  The  Missouri  whisky  smugglers  found  they 
must  either  organise  for  defence  or  pay  for  their  fun  by 
being  exterminated.  How  many  whites  were  mas- 
sacred in  these  drinking  frays  will  never  be  known ;  but 
all  around  Old  Man's  River  and  Fort  Macleod  are  grue- 
some landmarks  known  as  the  places  where  such  and 
such  parties  were  destroyed  in  the  early  seventies. 

"The  upshot  was  that  the  Missouri  smugglers  emu- 
lated the  old  fur  traders  and  built  themselves  perma- 
nent forts;  Robbers'  Roost,  Stand  Off,  Freeze  Out,  and, 
most  famous  of  all,  Whoop- Her-Up,  whose  name  for 
respectability's  sake  has  been  changed  to  'Whoop-Pup,' 
with  an  innocent  suggestiveness  of  some  poetic  Indian 
title.  Whoop-Up,  as  it  was  known  to  plainsmen,  was 
palisaded  and  loop-holed  for  musketry,  with  bastions 
and  cannon  and  an  alarm  bell.  The  fortifications  of 
this  place  alone,  it  is  said,  cost  $12,000,  and  it  at  once 
became  the  metropolis  of  the  whisky  smugglers.  Hence- 
forth only  a  few  Indians  were  allowed  inside  the  fort  at 
a  time,  the  rest  being  served  through  the  loop-holes. 

"But  the  Blackfeet,  who  loved  a  man  hunt  better 
than  a  buffalo  hunt,  were  not  to  be  balked.  The  trail 
by  which  the  whisky  smugglers  came  from  Fort  Ben- 
ton  zigzagged  over  the  rolling  prairie,  mainly  following 


29o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  bottoms  of  the  precipitous  coulees  and  ravines  for 
a  distance  of  200  miles  to  Whoop-Up.  Heavy  wagons 
with  canvas  tops  and  yokes  of  fifteen  and  twenty  oxen 
drew  the  freight  of  liquor  through  the  devious  passes 
that  connected  ravine  with  ravine.  The  Blackfeet  are 
probably  the  best  horsemen  in  the  world.  There  were 
places  where  the  defiles  were  exceptionally  narrow, 
where  the  wagons  got  mired,  where  oxen  and  freight 
had  to  be  rafted  across  rain-swollen  sloughs.  With  a 
yelling  of  incarnate  fiends  that  would  have  stampeded 
more  sober  brutes  than  oxen  drawing  kegs  of  whisky, 
down  swooped  the  Blackfeet  at  just  these  hard  spots. 
Sometimes  the  raids  took  place  at  night,  when  tethers 
would  be  cut  and  the  oxen  stampeded  with  the  bel- 
lowing of  a  frightened  buffalo  herd.  If  the  smugglers 
made  a  stand  there  was  a  fight.  If  they  drew  off,  the 
savages  captured  the  booty." 

Miss  Laut's  informants  have  most  grievously  imposed 
upon  her.  The  men  who  participated  in  the  trade  across 
the  line  were  not  "criminals  of  every  stripe,"  but  honest, 
fearless,  straightforward  fellows.  Very  many  of  them 
are  living  to-day  and  they  feel  that  they  have  been 
wronged  by  Miss  Laut's  statements.  Neither  were 
they  smugglers  into  the  country,  for  that  part  of  Canada 
was  then  to  the  Canadians  an  unknown  land,  without 
any  laws  or  white  residents.  Away  up  on  the  Sas- 
katchewan was  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  selling  rum 
to  the  Indians,  as  they  had  been  doing  for  many  years. 
In  the  opposition  of  the  Americans  they  saw  the  end  of 
their  lucrative  trade,  and  complained  to  the  Dominion 
Government  about  it,  finally  getting  relief  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Northwest  Mounted  Police.  Neither 
were  there  any  drinking  frays  in  which  whites  were 
massacred.  One  man  named  Joe  Neufrain  was  killed 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND        291 

for  cause  by  the  Blackfeet  at  Elbow,  about  100  miles 
north  of  Belly  River.  Two  men,  a  Frenchman  named 
Polite,  and  Joseph  Wey,  were  killed  at  Rocky  Springs, 
on  the  trail  from  Fort  Benton  north.  The  Assiniboins, 
not  the  Blackfeet,  shot  them.  The  fact  is  that  the  trail 
did  not  follow  precipitous  coulees  and  ravines  but  ran 
straight  over  the  open  rolling  plain,  the  freighters  thereon 
were  not  attacked  by  the  Blackfeet,  and  their  cattle 
stampeded.  Nor  did  they  freight  whisky  in  heavy 
loaded  bull  trains.  In  crossing  the  Indian  country 
south  of  the  line  they  had  the  United  States  marshal  to 
elude;  the  whisky  was  transported  by  four-horse  teams 
which  travelled  swiftly  across  by  a  route  which  the 
marshal  was  unlikely  to  know. 

In  the  fall  of  1870  Berry  established  Stand-Off ;  after 
that  Whoop-Up  and  Fort  Kipp  were  built.  There  were 
one  or  two  other  minor  posts  at  Elbow,  on  High  River, 
and  Sheep  Creek.  In  all,  from  1870  until  the  arrival 
of  the  Mounted  Police  in  1874,  there  were  fifty-six  white 
men  at  these  various  places  or  camped  out  on  the  plains 
wolfing.  They  were  not  massacred  by  the  Blackfeet. 
When  the  Mounted  Police  came  they  also  got  along 
peaceably  with  the  Confederacy,  because  the  Baker 
massacre  had  taken  all  the  fight  out  of  them.  So  much 
by  way  of  explanation. 

Starting  north  from  Fort  Benton  with  a  good  outfit 
of  stores,  Berry,  I,  and  several  others  arrived  at  Belly 
River,  at  a  point  some  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  above 
its  mouth,  and  built  Stand-Off,  a  place  of  a  few  rude 
cabins.  This  is  why  we  gave  it  the  peculiar  name:  The 
marshal  got  on  our  trail  and  overtook  us  soon  after  we 
had  crossed  the  North  Fork  of  Milk  River  and  were  de- 
scending the  slope  to  the  St.  Mary's. 


392  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Well,  boys,"  he  said,  smiling  grimly,  "I've  caught 
you  at  last.  Turn  around  and  hit  the  back  trail  with 
me." 

"I  don't  think  we  will,"  said  Berry.  "We're  across 
the  line.  Better  turn  around  and  go  back  your- 
self." 

A  warm  argument  ensued.  The  line  had  never  been 
surveyed,  but  we  knew  that  according  to  the  treaty  it 
was  the  4Qth  parallel.  We  were  on  the  Arctic  Slope 
watershed,  and  therefore  we  assumed  that  we  were  in 
Canada;  the  marshal  said  that  we  were  not.  Finally 
Berry  told  him  that  he  would  not  turn  back,  that  he 
would  fight  first,  as  he  knew  that  he  was  right.  The 
marshal  was  powerless  to  take  us,  as  he  was  alone.  We 
"stood  him  off,"  and  he  sorrowfully  turned  back. 

Another  time  Berry  went  into  Fort  Benton  for  liquor 
and  the  marshal  trailed  him  around  day  and  night. 
Nothing  was  to  be  done  there,  so  he  hitched  up  his  four- 
horse  team  and  with  another  man  travelled  up  to  Helena. 
Still  the  marshal  followed,  but  Berry  was  a  man  of  re- 
source. He  went  to  a  certain  firm  there  and  got  them  to 
deliver  thirty  cases  of  alcohol  to  him  on  the  banks  of  the 
Missouri  a  few  miles  below  town,  where  he  made  a  raft 
for  them,  got  aboard, and  pushed  out  into  the  current. 
Meanwhile  the  marshal  was  watching  the  four  horses  and 
wagon  at  the  livery  stable.  That  night  Berry's  helper 
got  them  out  and  started  on  the  back  trail.  In  a  little 
while  the  officer  caught  up  with  the  outfit,  but  lo!  the 
wagon  was  empty  and  Berry  was  missing.  He  turned 
back  and  stayed  all  that  night  in  Helena,  then  started 
again  and  arrived  in  Fort  Benton  about  the  same  time 
as  did  the  team.  There  the  man  loaded  up  with  straight 
provisions  and  pulled  out  for  the  north.  The  marshal 
was  completely  nonplussed. 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND         293 

Meanwhile  Berry  was  having  a  hard  time.  A  raft  of 
alcohol,  which  has  but  little  higher  specific  gravity  than 
water,  proved  a  difficult  thing  to  handle,  and  in  rapid 
water  was  sometimes  completely  submerged.  Some- 
times it  stuck  on  a  bar  or  was  in  danger  of  hitting  a 
rocky  shore  and  he  had  to  jump  off  and  push  it  into  deeper 
water.  For  three  days  he  played  beaver,  and  practically 
fasted,  for  his  provisions  got  wet,  but  on  the  third  even- 
ing he  reached  the  mouth  of  Sun  River  with  the  loss  of 
but  one  case  of  alcohol,  which  the  rocks  had  punctured. 
There  a  four-horse  team  awaited  him,  sent  from  Fort 
Benton  by  the  driver  of  his  own  outfit.  The  two  men  at 
once  loaded  up  the  wagon  and  struck  out  over  the  track- 
less prairie,  crossing  the  line  and  arriving  at  Stand-Off 
without  trouble. 

The  Bloods  and  Blackfeet  gave  us  a  fair  trade  that 
winter.  We  realised,  however,  that  with  the  building 
of  Whoop-Up  we  were  too  far  west  to  be  in  the  centre  of 
the  trade;  so  the  succeeding  summer  we  moved  down 
some  miles  and  built  another  post.  The  main  event  of 
the  succeeding  winter  was  the  killing  of  Calf  Shirt,  the 
Blood  chief,  and  a  terrible  man.  He  was  absolutely 
ferocious  and  his  people  feared  him,  he  having  killed 
six  or  eight  of  them — several  his  own  relatives.  He 
came  into  the  trade  room  one  day  and  pointing  a  pistol 
at  the  man  on  duty  there,  demanded  some  whisky. 
The  trader  raised  his  pistol  and  fired,  the  bullet  taking 
effect  in  the  Indian's  breast.  He  did  not  drop,  however, 
or  even  stagger;  nor  did  he  shoot,  but  turned  and  walked 
calmly  out  of  the  door  toward  his  camp.  Upon  hearing 
the  shot  a  number  of  men  elsewhere  in  the  post  rushed 
out,  saw  the  pistol  in  his  hand,  and  thinking  that  he  had 
killed  someone,  began  firing.  Shot  after  shot  struck 
Calf  Shirt,  but  he  kept  calmly  on  for  many  yards,  and 


2Q4  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

then  fell  over  dead.  He  possessed  extraordinary  vitality. 
The  body  was  thrown  into  the  river  through  a  hole  in 
the  ice,  but  it  came  up  in  an  airhole  below,  and  was  found 
there.  The  chief  had  always  told  his  wives  that  if  he  was 
killed  they  were  to  sing  certain  songs  over  his  body,  and 
he  would  come  to  life,  if  they  kept  it  up  for  four  days. 
The  women  took  the  corpse  home  and  did  as  they  had 
been  told,  and  felt  very  badly  when  they  found  that 
their  efforts  were  fruitless.  All  the  rest  of  the  tribe, 
however,  rejoiced  that  the  terror  was  gone. 

The  next  winter  a  row  broke  out  among  the  traders 
and  the  wolfers  of  the  country,  the  latter  demanding  that 
no  more  rifles  and  ammunition  be  sold  to  the  Indians. 
They  formed  what  the  traders  named  in  derision  the 
"Is-pit-si  Cavalry"  and  went  around  trying  to  get  sig- 
natures to  an  agreement,  both  by  threats  and  entreaty, 
that  the  traders  would  comply  with  their  request,  but 
they  met  with  little  or  no  success.  Miss  Laut  also  refers 
to  this  "cavalry,"  and  says  that  they  were  organised 
by  the  smugglers  to  escort  the  freighters  and  defend  the 
fort.  The  freighters  needed  no  escort,  and  I  would  like 
to  know  how  men  could  be  called  smugglers  who  broke 
no  known  law;  who,  it  may  be  said,  practically  settled 
the  country  and  made  it  possible  for  a  little  band  of 
Mounted  Police  to  march  into  it.  Miss  Laut  says  that 
the  latter  were  the  result  of  protests  to  the  Dominion 
Government  "from  the  fur  company  deprived  of  lawful 
trade."  They  sold  tobacco,  tea,  sugar,  blankets,  guns 
and  various  notions.  So  did  we.  They  sold  watered 
Jamaica  rum  and  Scotch  whisky.  We  sold  watered 
American  alcohol  and  whisky.  I  claim  that  we  were 
just  as  respectable  as  the  honourable  lords  and  members 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  Limited.  The  latter, 
at  this  very  day,  are  selling  liquor  in  nearly  every  town 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND    295 

of  Alberta,  Assiniboia  and  other  territory  of  Northwest 
Canada,  but  we  long  since  went  out  of  the  business. 

I  don't  blame  Miss  Laut;  she  couldn't  have  known 
the  facts.  The  men  who  told  her  the  story — well,  they 
slandered  some  pretty  good  men.  None  of  them  were 
what  might  be  called  saints,  but  the  kindly,  generous, 
honourable  acts  I  have  known  them  to  do! 

Many  of  the  traders  had  thousands  of  dollars  worth 
of  merchandise  in  stock  when  the  Mounted  Police  drew 
near,  and  most  of  them  were  warned  in  time  of  their 
approach  to  bury,  or  otherwise  conceal  the  liquor.  A 
band  of  hunters  brought  the  news.  "Some  men  are 
coming,"  they  said,  "who  wear  red  coats,  and  they  are 
drawing  a  cannon." 

That  was  sufficient  for  Berry  and  me,  and  we  promptly 
cached  the  ten  or  twelve  gallons  of  whisky  we  had. 
Only  one  trader,  I  believe,  failed  to  get  the  warning; 
he  had  his  whole  stock  confiscated  because  among  it 
were  found  a  few  gallons  of  liquor.  Of  course,  we  were 
not  glad  to  see  the  strangers,  but  we  met  them  with 
courtesy  and  treated  them  well.  Although  they  had 
come  through  a  country  teeming  with  game  they  were  in 
an  almost  starving  condition,  and  were  very  glad  to 
buy  our  provisions.  Their  commander,  Colonel  Macleod, 
was  a  gentleman,  and  became  a  life-long  friend  with  some 
of  the  "smugglers."  Many  of  the  traders  remained  in 
that  country  to  continue  trade  with  the  Indians  and  the 
newcomers,  while  others  returned  to  Montana.  We  went 
with  the  latter  outfits.  None  "slid  out,"  but  went  from 
time  to  time  decorously  and  peaceably,  and  with  such  of 
their  possessions  as  they  had  not  sold  or  given  away. 
Thus  passed  the  trade  in  the  north.  I  cannot  say  that 
we  regretted  it.  Prices  of  furs  had  fluctuated  and 
dropped  in  value  100  per  cent.,  few  had  cleared  anything 


296  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

worth  mentioning.  Four  years  later  the  last  of  the 
Alberta  buffalo  herds  drifted  south  and  never  returned 
to  that  section  of  the  country. 

We  again  took  up  our  quarters  in  Fort  Benton  at  the 
little  adobe  house  and  wintered  there.  It  was  a  relief 
to  be  out  of  the  trade  for  a  time  and  rest  up.  A  few  of 
those  who  had  been  in  the  North  with  us  crossed  the 
river  and  located  ranches  on  the  Shonkin  and  along  the 
Highwood  Mountains.  Berry  and  I  thought  that  we  did 
not  want  any  ranching  in  ours. 

We  had  frequently  heard  from  Ashton.  He  seemed 
to  be  a  man  of  unrest,  now  somewhere  in  Europe,  again 
travelling  in  the  States,  once  in  a  while  visiting  his  pra- 
te" g^e  in  St.  Louis.  Diana  also  wrote  quite  frequently, 
and  her  letters  were  now  models  of  chirography,  correct 
in  grammar  and  phrasing.  In  some  she  spoke  only  of 
her  school  work  and  the  petty  incidents  of  her  daily  life. 
These,  I  fancied,  were  the  ones  the  good  Sisters  glanced 
over  before  mailing  them.  But  the  others  told  of  her 
dislike  of  the  city.  "I  could  bear  it,"  she  said,  "if  I 
could  only  see  the  great  mountains  once  in  a  while,  and 
the  plains."  She  also  spoke  of  Ashton  and  told  how 
good  he  was  to  her,  how  happy  she  was  when  he  came  to 
visit  there.  He  desired  her  in  another  year  to  enter  a 
seminary:  she  would  go,  of  course,  for  what  her  chief 
wished  she  would  do,  although  she  so  longed  to  see  the 
dear  land  in  which  she  was  born,  and  to  visit  us,  if  only 
for  a  day ;  but  she  could  not  tell  him  that. 

And  in  one  letter  she  told  Nat-ah'-ki  that  Diana 
meant  Sahm'i-ah-ki  (Hunter  Woman),  and  she  was  one 
who  lived  in  the  long  ago,  was  a  Sun  woman,  and  never 
married.  "And  I  must  do  likewise,"  she  concluded 
pathetically,  "for  no  one  I  could  care  for  would  love  me, 
a  plain,  dark  little  Indian  girl." 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND        297 

"Kyai'-yo!"  the  Crow  Woman  exclaimed  when  I  had 
read  this  out.  "I  guess  any  young  man  in  camp  would 
be  glad  to  have  her." 

"I  think  that  I  understand,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki,  medi- 
tatively. "  I  think  that  I  understand.  The  ways  of  her 
people  are  no  longer  her  ways;  she  has  become  a  white 
woman  in  all  but  colour." 

Every  winter  since  his  departure  Ashton  had  written 
that  he  would  visit  us  in  the  spring,  but  he  never  fulfilled 
his  promise.  We  had  concluded  that  he  never  would 
come  again,  when  he  surprised  us  by  coming  ashore  from 
a  steamboat  one  day  in  June.  We  were  certainly  glad 
to  greet  him,  and  in  his  quiet  way  he  seemed  to  be 
equally  pleased.  We  all  went  over  to  the  house  and 
when  the  women  saw  him  they  clapped  hand  to  mouth 
in  surprise  and  came  forward  to  shake  hands  with  him. 
"  Ok'-i  kut'-ai-im-i,"  they  said.  You  will  remember  that 
they  had  named  him  Never  Laughs,  but  he  did  not  know 
that. 

He  was  the  same  Ashton  we  had  known,  not  given  to 
much  speech,  and  with  the  sad  look  in  his  eyes,  although 
upon  his  arrival  he  talked  more  than  usual  and  joked 
with  the  women,  Berry  or  I,  of  course,  interpreting. 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed,"  Nat-ah'-ki  told  him,  "to 
come  alone.  Why  didn't  you  bring  Diana?" 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "she  is  busy;  she  has  her  studies;  she 
could  hardly  leave  them.  You  should  see  into  what  a 
fine  lady  she  has  grown.  She  sends  you  all  her  love  and 
some  presents,  which  I  will  hand  you  as  soon  as  my 
trunk  arrives." 

Nat-ah'-ki  wished  me  to  tell  him  that  the  girl  was 
grieving  for  the  sight  of  her  country,  but  I  would  not  do 
so.  "We  are  not  to  mix  up  in  his  affairs,"  I  said  to  her. 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  gave  Ashton  our  room,  and  moved 


298  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

out  to  a  tent  set  up  beside  the  house.  But  that  was  not 
for  long. 

"In  summer  in  this  country  one  should  not  live  in  a 
house,"  he  said,  one  morning.  "Ever  since  I  left  here  I 
have  been  longing  to  stay  in  that  lodge  of  yours  once 
more.  Many  a  time  I've  thought  of  that  robe  couch,  the 
cheerful  little  fire,  the  quaint  things  scattered  around. 
It  was  a  place  to  rest  and  to  dream.  I'd  like  to  try  it 
again." 

I  told  him  that  he  should.  Our  lodge  was  about  worn 
out.  So  Nat-ah'-ki  sent  word  to  the  Piegan  camp  to  her 
mother — they  were  out  on  the  Teton  somewhere — to  get 
us  a  good  one  and  bring  it  in;  and  when  it  arrived  we 
set  it  up,  and  there  Ashton  camped  with  us.  He  would 
sit  or  recline  on  his  couch  as  he  used  to  for  hours  at  a 
time,  smoking,  smoking,  and  silent.  And  his  thoughts 
were  not  happy  ones,  for  the  shadow  was  in  his  eyes. 
And,  as  before,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  wondered  what  his 
trouble  might  be.  She  grieved  herself  for  him  and  said 
many  times:  "  He  is  very,  very  poor.  I  pity  him." 

A  steamboat  came  in  one  evening,  but  none  of  us  went 
over  to  see  her  land;  they  had  become  a  common  sight. 
We  had  finished  supper,  Nat-ah'-ki  had  cleared  the  table 
and  lighted  the  lamp.  Ashton  had  not  yet  returned  to 
the  lodge,  but  was  standing  by  the  light  repairing  his 
pipe  stem.  There  was  a  sound  of  swishing  of  silk  and 
then  a  tall  and  graceful  woman  crossed  the  threshold, 
raising  her  veil  with  an  impatient  gesture,  and  almost 
ran  up  to  him,  holding  out  her  hands  appealingly.  We 
recognised  her  instantly.  It  was  Diana. 

"My  chief,"  she  cried,  "forgive  me!  I  could  not  help 
it.  I  so  longed  to  see  my  country  before  I  went  back  to 
school,  that  I  left  Alice  and  came.  Oh,  don't  be  angry; 
forgive  me!" 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND    299 

Ashton  had  grasped  her  hands  when  she  held  them 
out  to  him,  and  almost  drew  her  to  him,  and  I  had  never 
thought  to  see  his  face  brighten  so.  It  fairly  beamed 
with  love  and  pride  and  joy,  I  thought. 

"My  dear!  my  dear!"  he  said,  almost  falteringly. 
"Angry?  Forgive?  Your  desires  are  always  mine.  God 
knows  I  always  wish  you  to  be  happy.  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me?  We  could  have  come  out  together?" 

But  the  girl  was  crying  now,  and  Nat-ah'-ki,  almost 
afraid  of  this  tall  and  stately  girl,  dressed  in  a  manner 
unknown  to  her,  walked  up  and  said:  "My  daughter — 
you  are  my  daughter,  aren't  you?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  she  faltered,  and  the  two  embraced. 

We  men  filed  out  and  left  them  together.  Ashton 
went  to  the  lodge,  Berry  and  I  strolled  up  the  trail  a  way. 

"Good  God!"  Berry  exclaimed,  "I  never  thought  that 
one  of  our  blood  could  be  like  that.  Why,  she  plumb 
knocks  the  spots  off  of  any  white  woman  I  ever  saw,  in 
some  Way.  I  can't  explain  the  difference  between  her 
and  them,  but  it's  there  sure.  What  is  it?" 

"Well,"  I  said  to  him,  "it's  a  matter  of  education,  and 
of  association  with  refined  people  mainly,  I  guess;  and 
well,  some  women  are  that  way.  I  can't  exactly  explain 
it  myself." 

"And  did  you  notice  how  she's  dressed?"  Berry 
added.  "Plain  like,  yet  somehow  you  know  that  those 
clothes  cost  a  heap  of  money,  and  were  made  by  some- 
body who  sure  knew  how.  And  that  locket  hanging 
down  on  her  breast ;  all  pearls  and  a  big  diamond  in  the 
centre.  My,  my!" 

She  was  beautiful,  as  we  imagine  Diana,  her  name- 
sake, must  have  been.  But  where  the  goddess  was  cold 
and  calm  and  all  disdainful,  our  Diana  was  gracious, 
and,  as  we  had  seen,  she  had  a  heart. 


3oo  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

We  went  back.  The  tears  were  gone;  the  women, 
Berry's  wife,  Nat-ah'-ki,  old  Mrs.  Berry  and  the  Crow 
Woman  were  sitting  around  her  breathlessly  listening 
to  some  of  her  experiences.  She  had  not  forgotten  her 
mother's  language.  She  arose  and  shook  hands  with  us, 
and  said  how  pleased  she  was  to  meet  us  again ;  that  she 
had  never  forgotten  our  kindness. 

After  a  little  she  went  over  to  the  lodge  with  Nat-ah'-ki 
and  me,  daintily  holding  up  her  skirts,  carefully  circling 
the  little  fire  and  sitting  down  opposite  Ashton,  who 
looked  well  pleased  that  we  had  come  in. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands,  "how  well 
I  remember  it  all,  even  to  the  coals  of  different  fuel. 
You  are  burning  cottonwood."  And  so  she  talked  on, 
sometimes  to  Ashton  and  me,  sometimes  to  Nat-ah'-ki, 
and  we  passed  a  pleasant  evening.  Berry  and  his  wife 
gave  up  their  room  to  her,  and  came  also  to  live  in  the 
lodge.  Somehow  we  could  not  ask  her  if  she  would  like 
to  live  in  it,  she  seemed  to  be  above  the  old  life  entirely, 
out  of  place  in  it. 

I  must  say  that  the  girl  created  a  sensation  in  the 
Fort  or  town,  as  it  was  beginning  to  be  called.  The 
bull-whackers  and  mule-skinners  and  the  wolfers  stared 
at  her  open-mouthed  when  she  passed.  The  gamblers 
did  their  best  to  get  an  introduction.  The  real  men,  to 
whom  she  was  introduced,  treated  her  with  profound 
consideration.  We  daily  had  visitors  from  the  Piegan 
camp,  the  women  regarded  her  with  awe,  and  timidly 
shook  hands  with  her.  The  chiefs  even  shook  her  hand 
and  talked  to  her;  the  young  gallants  came  and  stood 
at  a  little  distance,  posing,  and  watching  her  out  of  the 
corner  of  their  eyes. 

One  morning  Ashton  proposed  that  we  should  pack 
up  and  go  somewhere  for  a  month  or  two  with  the 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  NORTHLAND   301 

Piegan  camp,  or,  if  it  was  safe,  by  ourselves  out  to  the 
Belt,  or  the  foot  of  the  Rockies.  Diana  objected.  "I 
would  rather  not  go,"  she  said.  "You  know  I  must 
soon  return  to  school." 

Ashton  seemed  to  be  surprised  at  her  objection  and 
so  were  we. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "I  hoped  you  would  enjoy  such 
a  trip.  There  is  ample  time  for  you  to  make  it  and  re- 
turn east  for  the  school  opening." 

But  still  she  made  excuses,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 
She  told  Nat-ah'-ki,  however,  that  she  longed  to 
go  out  on  the  plains  and  roam  about  once  more,  but 
that  she  was  in  duty  bound  to  go  back  soon.  "You 
can't  understand  how  good  my  chief  is  to  me,"  she  said. 
"Always  I  have  money,  more  than  any  of  the  other  girls, 
more  than  I  can  use.  And  I  have  the  finest  clothes, 
lovely  jewellery.  Oh,  he  is  so  good  and  kind  to  me,  and 
seems  so  pleased  that  I  learn  things.  I  have  seen  you 
all  and  my  country  once  more,  and  he  was  not  angry 
that  I  came.  Now,  I  am  going  back  to  study  hard." 

"Isn't  she  good!"  Nat-ah'-ki  exclaimed,  after  she 
told  me  this.  "And  isn't  she  beautiful!  I  wish  she 
was  my  real  daughter." 

"You  simple  thing!"  I  said.  "She  might  be  your 
sister;  you  are  but  little  older,  you  know." 

"I  don't  care,"  she  concluded,  "she  is  my  daughter 
in  a  way.  Didn't  I  take  care  of  her  and  wipe  away  her 
tears,  and  do  all  I  could  when  Never  Laughs  brought 
her  home  that  bad  day?" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE    STORY    OP   ANCIENT    SLEEPER 

AS  DIANA  would  not  agree  to  the  camping  trip, 
Ashton  did  all  he  could  to  make  her  visit  pleasant 
in  other  ways.  He  bought  a  horse  and  saddle  for  her — 
a  wholly  unnecessary  proceeding,  as  we  had  plenty  of 
both — and  went  riding  with  her  up  over  the  plains,  and 
across  into  the  Teton  Valley,  or  wherever  she  chose  to 
go.  Every  evening  she  came  into  the  lodge  and  sat 
with  us,  sometimes  happily  talking,  again  silent  for 
long  intervals,  dreamily  watching  the  flames  of  the  little 
fire.  The  girl  was  a  puzzle  to  me.  I  wondered  if  she 
were  in  love  with  Ashton,  or  merely  regarded  him  as 
any  girl  would  a  kind  and  indulgent  father.  I  asked 
Nat-ah'-ki  if  she  had  ever  speculated  about  it,  and  she 
replied  that  she  had,  but  could  not  make  up  her  mind 
how  the  girl  felt. 

It  may  have  been  ten  days  after  Diana  arrived  that 
one  afternoon  she  requested  Nat-ah'-ki  to  pass  the  night 
with  her,  and  of  course  the  latter  complied.  I  thought 
it  a  girlish  whim.  Diana  was  unusually  silent  all  that 
evening,  and  many  times,  when  Ashton  was  unaware  of 
her  gaze,  I  saw  her  looking  at  him  with  an  expression 
in  her  eyes  which  I  could  not  interpret  as  anything  but 
intense  affection.  We  retired  early  and,  as  usual,  slept 
soundly.  We  were  none  of  us  early  risers,  and  Nat-ah'-ki's 
warning  call  aroused  us  for  breakfast.  We  arose  and 
went  into  the  house  and  took  our  places  at  the  table. 
Diana  was  not  at  hand,  and  I  asked  Nat-ah'-ki  why  she 

§M 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  303 

did  not  call  her.  For  reply  she  handed  Ashton  a  note 
and  fled  from  the  room.  He  glanced  at  it  and  turned 
white.  " She's  gone  back! "  he  said.  "She's  gone  back!" 
He  sprang  from  his  chair,  seized  his  hat,  and  rushed  out 
toward  the  levee. 

"What's  all  this?"  I  asked  Nat-ah'-ki,  whom  I 
found  in  the  old  women's  room,  sitting  scared  and  still. 
"Where  is  the  girl?" 

"Gone  back  to  her  reading  and  writing  work,"  she 
replied.  "I  helped  take  her  things  over  to  the  fire- 
boat,  and  it  went  away."  And  then  she  began  to  cry. 
"She's  gone!"  she  wailed.  "My  beautiful  daughter 
is  gone,  and  I  know  that  I  shall  never  see  her  again!" 

"But  why?"  I  broke  in.  "Why  did  she  leave  with- 
out saying  anything  to  Never  Laughs?  It  was  wrong; 
you  should  not  have  helped  her;  you  should  have  come 
and  told  us  about  her  plan." 

"I  did  as  she  asked  me  to,  and  would  do  so  again," 
she  said.  "And  you  must  not  blame  me.  The  girl 
was  worrying,  worrying,  worrying.  She  believed  that 
her  chief  was  not  pleased  because  she  had  come  up  here 
away  from  where  he  had  placed  her,  and  she  goes  back 
alone,  because  she  feared  that  he  would  feel  he  must 
accompany  her.  She  does  not  wish  him  to  lose  a  pleas- 
ant summer,  a  big  hunt  somewhere,  on  her  account." 

Ashton  came  back  from  the  levee.  "She  has  certainly 
gone,"  he  said,  dejectedly.  "What  madness  possesses 
her?  See  this!"  handing  me  the  note. 

"Dear  Chief,"  it  read,  "I  go  back  in  the  morning  at 
daylight.  I  hope  you  will  have  a  good  time  and  kill 
lots  of  game." 

"What  possesses  the  child?"  he  continued.  "And 
to  think  that  I  could  have  a  'good  time'  while  she  is 
travelling  down  this  cursed  river  unprotected!" 


304  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

I  told  him  what  I  had  learned  from  Nat-ah'-ki,  and 
he  brightened  perceptibly.  "She  does  care  then,"  he 
said.  "I  didn't  understand;  I  have  never  felt  that  I 
knew  her;  but  if  this  is  the  reason  she  went — well,  I'll 
go  back  too,  and  I'll  be  at  the  levee  in  Saint  Louis  to 
meet  her." 

And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word,  leaving  on  the  stage 
the  next  day  for  the  Union  Pacific  Railway,  by  the  way 
of  Helena  and  Corinne.  My  parting  words  to  him  were 
these:  "Old  man,"  I  said,  "never  doubt  but  what 
your  prote'ge'e  loves  you.  I  know  that  she  does." 

The  days  passed  monotonously.  Berry  fidgeted 
around,  and  was  cross,  and  I  became  nervous  and  cross, 
too.  We  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  ourselves.  "My 
father  always  told  me,"  he  said  one  day,  "that  a  man 
who  stayed  in  the  fur  trade  was  a  fool.  One  might  make 
a  stake  one  winter,  but  he  would  be  sure  to  lose  it 
another  season.  He  was  right.  Let's  give  it  up,  buy 
some  cattle  with  what  we  have  left,  and  settle  down 
to  stock  raising." 

"All  right,"  I  agreed.  "It's  a  go.  Anything  suits 
me." 

"We'll  do  some  ploughing,"  he  went  on,  "and  raise 
potatoes  and  oats  and  all  kinds  of  garden  stuff.  I  tell 
you,  it'll  just  be  fine." 

Berry's  bull  train  had  just  pulled  in  from  a  trip  to 
Helena.  We  loaded  it  with  some  lumber,  doors  and 
windows,  what  furniture  we  had,  plenty  of  provisions 
and  some  tools,  hired  a  couple  of  good  axe-men,  and 
started  it  out,  we  going  on  ahead  with  the  women  with 
a  four-horse  team.  We  chose  a  location  on  Back  Fat 
Creek,  not  far  from  the  foot  of  the  Rockies,  and  less  than 
one  hundred  miles  from  Fort  Benton.  We  selected  a 
site  for  the  buildings,  and  then,  leaving  me  to  superintend 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  305 

their  erection,  Berry  went  away  with  a  couple  of  men  to 
purchase  some  cattle.  It  did  not  take  long  to  haul 
enough  pine  logs  from  the  mountains  for  a  six-room 
shack,  a  stable  and  corral,  and  by  the  time  Berry  re- 
turned with  the  cattle,  about  four  hundred  head,  I  had 
everything  fixed  for  winter,  even  enough  hay  for  a  team 
and  a  couple  of  saddle  horses. 

The  Piegans  were  scattered  that  winter.  Some  were 
on  the  Marias,  some  on  the  Teton,  and  a  number  of 
lodges  of  them  occasionally  trailed  in  and  stopped  near 
our  place  for  several  weeks  at  a  time.  Buffalo  were 
fairly  plentiful,  and  up  in  the  foothills  there  were  all 
kinds  of  game.  We  had  some  trouble  with  the  cattle 
at  first,  but  in  a  few  weeks  they  located,  and  thereafter 
it  required  little  riding  to  keep  them  close  herded.  I 
can't  say  that  I  did  much  of  the  riding,  but  Berry  en- 
joyed it.  We  had  a  couple  of  men,  so  I  went  out  on 
little  hunts  with  Nat-ah'-ki,  poisoned  wolves,  caught 
trout  in  the  deep  holes  of  the  creek,  and  just  stayed  with 
the  women,  listening  to  Crow  Woman's  and  old  Mrs. 
Berry's  tales  of  the  long  ago. 

The  room  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  occupied  had  a  rude  stove 
and  mud  fireplace,  as  did  all  the  others  except  the 
kitchen,  where  was  a  good  big  stove.  Previous  to  this,  ex- 
cept when  in  Fort  Benton,  the  women  had  always  used 
a  fireplace  for  cooking,  and  they  still  used  one  for  roast- 
ing meat,  and  baking  beans  in  a  Dutch  oven.  Besides 
a  bed  and  a  chair  or  two,  our  room  had  a  bureau — one 
of  those  cheap,  varnished  affairs — of  which  Nat-ah'-ki 
was  very  proud.  She  was  always  washing  and  dusting  it, 
although  it  was  never  in  need  of  such  care,  and  arranging 
and  re-arranging  the  contents  of  the  drawers.  Also,  we 
had  curtains  to  the  window,  tied  back  with  blue  ribbons, 
and  there  was  a  table  which  I  made  of  a  dry  goods  box, 


3o6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

covered  with  a  bright  blanket.  At  one  side  of  the  fire- 
place was  a  buffalo  robe  couch,  willow  back-rests  at  each 
end.  We  had  some  argument  over  that.  When  I  ex- 
plained what  I  wanted,  Nat-ah'-ki  objected  to  its  con- 
struction. "You  disappoint  me,"  she  complained. 
"Here  we  have  built  a  home,  and  furnished  it  with 
beautiful  things,"  pointing  to  the  bureau,  bed,  and  cur- 
tains, "and  we  are  living  like  white  people,  trying  to  be 
white,  and  now  you  want  to  spoil  it  all  by  fixing  up  an 
Indian  couch!"  But  of  course  I  had  my  way. 

One  evening  we  visited  a  camp  of  some  thirty  lodges, 
of  which  one,  Ancient  Sleeper,  was  the  head  man.  He 
owned  a  medicine  pipe  and  various  other  sacred  things, 
and  did  some  doctoring,  in  which,  besides  various  con- 
coctions of  herbs  that  were  given  the  patient  internally 
or  externally,  a  mountain  lion  skin,  and  prayers  to  that 
animal,  played  an  important  part.  When  we  entered 
his  lodge,  I  was  welcomed  and  motioned  to  a 
place  on  his  left,  Nat-ah'-ki  of  course  taking  her  seat 
near  the  doorway  with  the  women.  Above  the  old  man, 
securely  tied  to  the  lodge  poles,  hung  his  medicine  pipe, 
bound  in  many  wrappings  of  various  skins,  Spread 
over  the  back-rest  at  the  right  end  of  his  couch  was  the 
sacred  lion  skin.  In  front  of  him  his  everyday  pipe  of 
black  stone  rested  upon  a  large  buffalo  chip.  Long 
before,  I  had  heard,  his  dream  had  commanded  this, 
and  ever  since  the  pipe  he  smoked  had  never  been  laid 
on  the  ground.  As  in  the  lodges  of  other  medicine  men, 
no  one  was  permitted  to  walk  entirely  around  the  fire, 
thus  passing  between  it  and  the  medicines,  nor  could  any 
one  remove  fire  from  the  lodge,  for  by  so  doing  the  power 
of  his  medicine  might  be  broken. 

Ancient  Sleeper  mixed  tobacco  and  1'herbe,  chopping 
it  fine,  filled  his  pipe,  passed  it  to  me  to  light,  and  we 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  307 

smoked  together  by  turns.  When  I  received  the  pipe, 
I  took  it  from  him  with  one  hand;  when  I  passed  it  to 
him,  he  grasped  the  stem  with  both  hands,  palms  down, 
spreading  and  crooking  his  fingers,  seizing,  pouncing 
upon  it,  in  imitation  of  the  way  of  a  bear.  Thus  did 
all  medicine-pipe  men;  it  was  a  sign  of  their  order. 
We  talked  a  little — about  the  weather;  the  game;  the 
whereabouts  of  the  people.  The  women  set  before  us 
some  food,  and  I  ate  of  it  as  in  duty  bound.  I  had  gone 
to  the  lodge  with  a  purpose,  and  I  began  to  edge  around 
to  it.  I  told  him  I  had  at  various  times  in  various  places 
killed  mountain  lions.  "I  see  you  have  the  skin  of  one 
there,"  I  concluded.  "Did  you  kill  it,  or  was  it  a 
present  ? ' ' 

"The  Sun  was  good  to  me,"  he  replied.  "I  killed  it. 
It  was  all  ik-ut'-o-wap-i  (very  sun  power;  very — let  us 
translate  it — supernatural)  that  which  occurred. 

"I  was  a  man.  I  had  a  lodge  of  my  own,  my  three 
women  whom  you  see  here.  My  body  was  strong.  I 
was  successful  in  everything.  I  was  happy.  And  then 
all  this  changed.  If  I  went  to  war,  I  got  wounded.  If 
I  took  horses,  I  lost  them  again;  they  died,  or  were 
stolen,  or  crippled  themselves.  Although  I  hunted 
hard,  somehow  I  often  failed  to  bring  home  meat.  And 
then  came  the  worst  of  all,  sickness.  Some  bad  ghost 
or  evil  thing  got  inside  of  me,  and  at  times  would  grip 
my  heart,  so  that  the  pain  was  terrible.  When  it  did 
that,  no  matter  where  I  was,  what  I  was  doing,  the  pain 
was  so  great  that  I  became  dizzy  and  staggered,  and 
sometimes  I  just  fell  over  and  died  for  a  short  time 
(fainted).  I  doctored;  I  had  the  medicine  men  pray  for 
me,  giving  a  horse  here,  a  horse  there.  I  did  not  get  any 
better,  and  I  became  very  poor.  At  last  we  had  only 
enough  horses  with  which  to  move  camp.  Parties  would 


308  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

no  longer  allow  me  to  go  to  war  with  them ;  they  feared 
that  I  would  die  on  their  hands,  or  in  some  way  bring 
misfortune.  I  heard  of  a  man,  a  Gros  Ventre,  who  had 
suffered  with  the  same  trouble.  He  had  bought  a 
medicine  pipe  of  great  power,  ana  by  its  use  he  had  got 
well.  He  would  sell  the  pipe,  I  was  told,  but  I  could  not 
buy  it.  I  had  no  fifteen  or  twenty  horses  to  give  for  it 
nor  even  one.  I  preferred  to  die  rather  than  have  my 
women  go  afoot.  Neither  had  I  relatives  to  help  me 
nor  had  my  women  any  who  could  do  so.  Oh!  I  was 
very  poor.  Still  somehow,  I  kept  up  courage,  trying  in 
everyway  to  get  well,  and  to  provide  for  myself  and  mine. 
At  last  my  dying  times  became  so  frequent  that  I  no 
longer  went  hunting  nor  anywhere,  except  when  one  of 
my  women  accompanied  me.  They  would  not  let  me 
go  off  by  myself. 

"  She  there,  my  last  woman,  went  with  me  one  day  on  a 
hunt.  We  were  camping  at  the  time  on  the  Pi-is-tum- 
is-i-sak-ta  (Deep  Creek)  away  up  toward  the  headwaters, 
and  we  went  on  foot  up  into  the  pines  of  the  Belt  Moun- 
tains in  search  of  anything  that  was  meat.  The  camp 
had  been  in  that  locality  for  more  than  a  moon  and  the 
game  had  moved  away  to  farther  foothills,  and  high  up 
on  the  mountain.  We  travelled  far  before  we  found 
much  fresh  sign.  At  last,  away  up  high  on  the  moun- 
tain side  I  saw  a  band  of  elk  move  across  an  opening  and 
disappear  in  the  timber  which  surrounded  it.  The  wind 
was  right  and  I  followed  them,  my  woman  keeping  close 
behind  me.  Down  into  a  deep  coulee  they  went,  across 
the  stream  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  up  the  other  side. 
But  when  we  came  to  the  stream  we  stopped,  for  there 
in  the  trail,  fresh  on  top  of  the  hoof  marks  of  the  elk,  were 
the  footprints  of  a  real  bear,  a  very  large  one.  He,  too, 
was  hunting,  and  he  was  before  me  on  the  trail  of  the 


" '  I  preferred  to  die  rather  than  have  my  woman  go  afoot : 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  309 

elk.  I  gave  it  to  him  and  turned  back.  I  did  not  wish 
to  meet  him  there  among  the  thick  pines.  We  came 
again  to  the  opening  and  went  into  the  timber  in  another 
direction,  up  toward  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  We 
found  more  fresh  elk  sign  and  followed  it  very  cautiously 
step  by  step,  looking,  looking  everywhere  for  sight  of  the 
animals.  At  last  we  came  to  the  foot  of  a  high  cliff. 
Under  it  were  broken  rocks,  bushes,  low  pines.  Right  out 
where  the  sun  shone  on  it  full,  lay  an  elk,  a  two-year-old 
bull,  head  bent  around  to  its  side,  fast  asleep.  I  had  but 
my  bow  and  arrows.  To  make  a  sure  shot,  I  must  get  close 
either  above  or  below  it,  for  the  animal  lay  lengthwise 
with  the  cliff,  and  I  had  approached  it  from  behind.  It 
were  useless  to  shoot  it  in  the  haunches ;  I  must  send  an 
arrow  down  through  its  back,  or  from  below  up  into  its 
side.  I  chose  to  go  along  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  and  shoot 
downward.  Never  did  I  step  more  carefully,  more 
slowly.  I  had  to  get  that  elk,  for  we  were  without  meat, 
had  lived  for  some  days  on  that  given  us  by  more  suc- 
cessful hunters.  My  woman  had  stopped  and  sat  down 
to  give  me  more  chance  in  the  approach.  I  glanced 
back  and  saw  her  looking  at  me,  at  the  elk,  signing  me 
to  be  cautious.  I  went  even  more  carefully,  if  that  were 
possible,  and  was  at  last  in  a  good  position  to  shoot.  I 
drew  back  the  bow  and  let  go  the  string.  I  saw  the 
arrow  sink  down  into  the  elk,  saw  it  struggle  to  rise,  saw 
blood  stream  from  its  nostrils,  and  then  the  pain  gripped 
my  heart.  I  staggered  and  died. 

"  I  was  a  very  long  time  dead,  for  when  I  came  to  life 
the  sun  had  set  and  the  last  of  his  colours  were  fading 
behind  him.  I  was  lying  in  a  sort  of  cave  where  my 
woman  had  carried  me.  I  felt  too  weak  to  get  up.  She 
brought  plenty  of  wood  and  made  a  little  fire  at  the 
mouth  of  the  cave.  Then  she  brought  water  in  a  piece 


3io  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

of  the  elk  skin,  and  some  meat.  I  drank,  and  she  fed 
me,  some  roast  liver,  a  marrow  bone,  a  kidney,  but  I 
was  not  hungry;  I  could  eat  only  a  few  mouthfuls. 
Neither  could  she  eat;  we  felt  very  sad;  both  knew 
that  this  time  I  had  almost  really  died.  She  came  and 
lay  down  beside  me  and  smoothed  my  forehead,  speaking 
words  of  courage,  and  after  a  little  time  I  fell  asleep. 
Then  my  shadow  went  forth  from  my  worn  body.  I 
was  free,  as  light  as  the  bubble  of  the  stream.  I  felt  able 
to  travel  wherever  I  wished  to,  and  to  understand  all 
things.  Thus,  as  if  I  had  been  led,  or  shown  the  way, 
I  came  to  a  fine,  new,  big  lodge  standing  all  by  itself 
at  the  edge  of  a  grove,  in  a  deep,  wide  valley  in  which 
was  a  beautiful  stream.  Without  hesitating,  without 
bashfulness,  I  raised  the  door  skin  and  entered  the  lodge. 
An  old,  old  man  was  its  owner,  and  he  welcomed  me, 
gave  me  a  seat  beside  him,  told  his  woman  to  prepare 
food.  We  smoked,  and  he  asked  many  questions.  I 
told  him  all,  all  the  story  of  my  life,  how  I  now  suffered. 
'Yes,'  he  kept  saying,  and  'Yes,'  and  'Yes.'  'I  know — 
I  understand.' 

"We  ate  that  which  the  women  set  before  us,  and  he 
again  filled  the  pipe.  'Listen,'  he  said,  as  we  smoked. 
'Listen.  Once  I  suffered  as  you  do,  and,  like  you,  I 
sought  everywhere,  in  many  ways  for  help,  and  at  last 
it  was  given  to  me.  I  regained  my  health.  My  hair 
has  turned  white,  my  skin  wrinkles,  I  am  very,  very  old; 
yet  still  my  body  is  strong  and  sound,  and  I  provide 
myself  the  meat  for  this  lodge.  All  this  because  I  found 
a  powerful  helper.  I  pity  you.  As  I  was  told  to  do, 
I  will  now  tell  you;  heed  my  words  and  follow  the  advice, 
and  you,  too,  will  live  to  great  age. 

"  'First,  as  to  your  sickness:  Some  ghost,  perhaps 
that  of  an  enemy  you  have  killed,  has  in  some  way 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  311 

entered  your  body  and  set  up  an  evil  growth  in  your 
stomach.  It  must  be  removed,  for  it  grows  larger  and 
larger,  pressing  against  the  heart,  and  unless  it  is  checked, 
will  soon  press  so  hard  that  the  heart  cannot  work;  then 
death.  You  must  kill  a  mountain  lion,  have  the  skin 
tanned,  leaving  the  claws  on  the  feet.  You  must  take 
good  care  of  this  skin,  and  at  night  hang  it  or  place  it 
near  the  head  of  your  couch.  So,  when  you  lie  down  to 
sleep  you  will  pray,  saying,  'Hai'-yu!  maker  of  claws; 
Hai'-yu!  maker  of  sharp,  cutting  claws,  I  pray  you  to 
aid  me;  claw  away  this  thing  which  is  threatening  my 
life,  and  will  surely  kill  me  without  your  aid!'  Thus  you 
must  pray  to  the  maker  of  claws,  to  the  shadow  of  the 
ancient  lion  himself.  Also,  you  must  learn  these  songs — 
and  he  taught  me  three  [here  Ancient  Person  sang  them, 
needless  to  say,  with  all  the  deep,  sincere  feeling  that 
the  devout  express  in  their  sacred  songs].  Also,  he  said, 
that  I  must  always  lay  my  pipe  on  a  buffalo  chip,  for  the 
buffalo  was  a  sacred  animal,  and  that  when  I  prayed, 
blowing  smoke  to  the  four  directions  of  the  world,  to 
those  above,  and  to  our  mother  (earth)  my  prayers  would 
have  more  power. 

"It  must  have  been  far  away  where  I  found  that  good 
old  man,  for  my  shadow  did  not  return  to  my  body  until 
after  sunrise.  I  awoke  and  saw  it  shining  into  the  cave. 
My  woman  had  rebuilt  the  fire,  was  cooking.  'Let  that 
be  for  a  time,'  I  said,  'and  come  and  sit  with  me.'  I  told 
her  all;  where  I  had  been,  what  the  kind  old  man  had 
said,  and  she  was  glad.  Right  there  one-half  of  the 
arrows  in  my  quiver,  with  the  tongue  of  the  elk  I  had 
killed,  we  hung  up  as  a  sacrifice,  and  then  we  went 
home,  my  woman  carrying  meat,  as  much  as  was  pos- 
sible for  her  to  handle.  I  could  carry  but  little. 

"I  had  a  North  gun  (Hudson's  Bay  Company's  make), 


3i2  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

but  no  powder  and  no  balls;  the  one  flint  was  bad. 
From  a  friend  I  borrowed  a  trap  and  in  a  short  time  I 
caught  six  beavers  with  it.  Another  friend  going  in  to 
Fort  Benton  to  trade  took  them  with  him  and  brought 
me  what  I  needed,  new  flints  and  ammunition,  and  then 
I  began  to  hunt  mountain  lions.  I  had  never  hunted 
mountain  lions;  neither  had  any  of  our  people.  Some 
one  occasionally  came  across  one  and  killed  it,  and  he 
was  thought  to  be  a  lucky  man,  for  the  skins  of  these 
animals  have  always  been  medicine.  They  are  made 
into  quiver  and  bow  cases,  or  the  owners  use  them  for 
saddle  skins.  Used  in  any  way,  they  give  one  success  in 
hunting  or  in  war.  No,  I  had  never  hunted  these  animals 
but  now  I  was  bound  to  get  one.  Again  she  there  and 
I  went  afoot  into  the  mountains.  I  took  both  gun  and 
bow,  the  latter  for  killing  meat.  The  silent  arrow 
alarms  nothing;  the  boom  of  a  gun  arouses  every  living 
thing;  the  sleeping  ones  awake,  prick  up  their  ears,  sniff 
the  wind,  and  watch. 

"We  walked  along  the  shore  of  the  creek.  Here,  there, 
plainly  marked  in  the  mud,  and  on  damp  sand  were4 foot- 
prints of  those  I  sought,  footprints,  but  nothing  more. 
We  went  into  the  deep  timber;  although  many  might 
have  passed  there,  they  could  make  no  sign,  leave  no 
tracks  on  the  dry,  dead  leaves.  We  went  higher,  up 
through  the  timber,  up  where  the  rock  is  chief  and  trees 
grow  small  and  low.  There  we  sat  all  through  the  day, 
peering  out  through  bushes  surrounding  the  place,  seeing 
once  a  small  black  bear,  once  a  fisher,  but  no  other  living 
thing,  except  little  birds,  and  eagles  lazily  flying  around. 
Butnear  sunset  came  aband  of  bighorn  feeding  to  ward  us, 
following  the  wind.  I  fitted  an  arrow  to  my  bow  and 
shot  one,  a  little  young  one.  It  bleated  and  fell  over, 
and  the  rest,  at  first  running  away  scared,  came  back 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  313 

with  its  mother  and  looked  at  it  curiously,  looked  all 
around,  trying  to  understand  what  had  happened.  I 
then  shot  the  mother.  We  left  her  lying,  in  hopes  of 
finding  a  mountain  lion  by  it  the  next  day,  and  taking  the 
young  one  we  went  away  down  the  mountain  and  camped 
for  the  night  near  a  stream  of  water. 

"We  passed  many  days  like  that,  many  days.  We 
camped  wherever  night  came  upon  us,  going  home  only 
when  our  lodge  required  meat,  or  when  camp  was  to  be 
moved.  Thus  passed  the  summer,  and  in  all  that  time 
we  saw  not  once  that  which  I  sought.  Twice  during  that 
time  I  died,  and  each  time  I  was  dead  longer  than  before. 
I  became  much  discouraged;  I  did  not  doubt  my  dream's 
words;  no,  I  was  sure  that  old  man  had  spoken  truth, 
but  I  felt  that  I  was  going  to  die  before  I  could  do  all 
he  had  told  me  to  do.  From  the  Belt  Mountains  we 
moved  to  Yellow  River,  from  there  across  to  Snowy 
Mountains.  Then  came  winter,  and  snow  fell  on  the 
high  slopes,  falling  lower,  still  lower,  until  the  mountains 
were  white  clear  to  the  plains.  Nothing  was  now  hidden 
from  me  of  the  happenings  of  the  night;  wherever  I 
went  the  snow  gave  me  the  story  as  well  as  if  some  one 
had  looked  on,  had  seen  it  all,  and  then  related  it.  Here 
walked,  and  fed,  and  played,  and  rested  deer  and  elk; 
here  a  bear  prowled  around,  turning  over  logs  and  stones. 
There  were  tracks  of  wolf,  and  coyote,  and  bobcat  and 
fox,  each  hunting  in  his  own  way  for  something  with 
which  to  fill  his  belly.  Yes,  and  here,  what  is  this  heap 
of  brush  and  sticks  and  leaves,  soiled  snow  and  earth? 
Up  through  it  protrudes  an  antler.  Over  there  is  blood ; 
something  has  been  dragged  through  the  snow.  Ah! 
there,  over  there,  is  a  trail  of  big,  round  footprints  near 
together.  Here  in  the  night  a  mountain  lion  sprang 
upon  a  buck  deer,  killed  it  and  ate  his  fill,  dragged  the 


3i4  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

remains  over  to  his  place  and  covered  them  with  all  the 
loose  things  he  could  paw  together.  Thus  I  explained 
it  to  my  woman.  'And,'  I  told  her,  'he  has  not  gone  far; 
his  belly  is  full;  somewhere  near  he  lies  stretched  out, 
asleep.' 

"But  what  should  I  do?  Hide  somewhere  nearby  and 
wait  for  him  to  return?  He  might  not  come  until  far 
in  the  night  when  I  could  not  see  him.  He  might,  when 
coming,  get  wind  of  me  and  turn,  never  to  come 
back.  No,  I  would  trail  him.  I  would  go  as  carefully 
as  he  himself  when  he  crept  along,  preparing 
to  spring  upon  a  deer.  I  would  see  him  before  he 
should  awake  and  notice  me,  and  I  would  kill  him 
where  he  lay.  Thus  did  I  plan;  thus  did  I  explain 
to  my  woman  telling  how  to  follow  me  at  a  dis- 
tance, just  so  near  that  she  could  see  me  once  in  a 
while,  no  nearer.  She  was  pleased.  'You  will  surely 
kill  him,'  she  said.  I  was  glad,  excited.  After  all  these 
moons  at  last  I  had  a  trail  to  follow,  and  on  the  snow  that 
was  almost  as  good  as  seeing  the  animal  far  off  and 
approaching  him.  Think  then,  friend,  think  of  my  de- 
spair when,  almost  within  sight  of  the  covered  deer,  I 
found  where  the  animal  had  lain  on  a  big  log,  had  seen 
us  talking,  and  bounded  away  into  the  dark  woods  with 
long  leaps!  It  was  too  much.  Again  I  got  dizzy, 
staggered,  and  was  dead  before  I  dropped  upon  the  snow. 

"That  time  my  woman  got  me  home,  going  back  for 
a  horse  for  me  to  ride,  and  I  lay  in  the  lodge  many  days, 
weak  in  body,  sick  in  heart,  discouraged.  But  friends 
came  in  to  cheer  me.  Their  women  brought  choice 
meat,  and  tongues,  dried  berries,  soups,  anything  good. 
So  we  fared  well,  and  day  by  day  my  strength  came  back. 
At  last,  one  evening,  a  friend  who  had  been  hunting 
came  hurrying  in.  'Kyi!'  said  he,  'I  have  good  news  for 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  315 

you.  Up  in  a  canon  where  I  trailed  a  wounded  deer,  I 
came  to  a  hole  in  the  rocks.  A  hard-beaten  trail  leads 
from  it  out  to  the  water,  then  parts  into  many  smaller 
trails.  A  mountain  lion  lives  there  with  her  young.  I 
did  not  scare  them.  I  did  not  even  kill  the  deer  I 
followed  to  the  place,  but  came  at  once  to  tell  you. 

"Once  more  I  took  courage,  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
daylight  I  started  for  the  place  with  my  friend  and  my 
woman.  We  rode  away  to  the  south,  then  up  a  creek, 
tied  our  horses  and  entered  a  walled  canon.  From 
there  it  was  not  far  to  the  cave.  Snow  had  fallen  during 
the  night ;  the  freshest  tracks  led  into  the  cave ;  in  there 
was  the  mother,  and  three  young,  partly  grown,  and  they 
were  somewhere  back  in  the  darkness,  watching  us 
perhaps. 

"  I  was  scared;  of  course  I  was.  Men  had  been  killed 
by  these  animals  when  following  them  into  their  dens. 
And  this  one  had  young;  she  would  fight  all  the  more 
fiercely.  Yes,  I  was  afraid,  but  for  all  that  I  must  go 
in;  as  well  die  there  as  in  some  other  place,  of  the  sick- 
ness from  which  I  suffered.  I  prepared  to  go  in.  My 
woman  cried  and  begged  me  not  to  go.  My  friend  pro- 
posed that  we  sit  and  watch  for  the  animals  to  come  out. 
I  fixed  the  priming  in  my  gun,  took  my  knife  in  my 
teeth,  got  down  on  my  hands  and  knees  and  crawled  in. 
It  was  just  a  narrow,  low  hole  in  the  wall,  and  my  body 
shut  off  most  of  the  light,  yet  there  was  enough  for  me 
to  see  ahead  dimly,  and  after  a  little  I  saw  before  me 
two  green-red  eyes,  big,  wide  eyes  of  fire.  I  stooped 
lower,  letting  in  more  light,  and  could  see  the  old  one's 
body,  see  her  ears  laid  back  tight  on  her  head,  see  the 
tip  of  her  tail  swishing  this  way,  that  way.  She  growled 
a  little,  a  low,  soft  growl.  She  lay  on  her  belly  and  her 
forefeet  shifted  back  and  forth,  seeking  the  secure  hold; 


316  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

she  was  about  to  spring  upon  me.  More  dimly  I  saw  her 
cubs  behind  her,  but  they  did  not  matter.  I  slowly 
raised  my  gun,  but  before  I  could  aim  it,  she  sprang. 
I  fired;  the  ball  met  her  in  the  air;  her  body  struck  me 
and  knocked  the  breath  out  of  me,  and  once  more  I  died. 

"They  pulled  me  out  of  the  cave, and,  while  my  woman 
cared  for  me,  my  friend  went  back  in,  shot  the  three 
young  with  his  bow  and  arrows,  and  dragged  them  out 
with  the  body  of  the  mother.  My  ball  had  struck  her 
fair  in  the  breast.  So,  now,  at  last,  I  had  that  which 
my  dream  had  told  me  to  get,  and  I  prayed,  I  sang  the 
songs  as  I  had  been  told  to  do.  It  was  not  many  nights 
after  that,  sitting  on  my  couch,  I  said  the  prayers  and 
sang  the  first  one  of  the  songs.  I  had  just  finished  it 
when  something  gave  way  inside  of  me,  and  blood  and 
foul  matter  streamed  from  my  mouth.  There  was  no 
pain.  After  a  time  the  blood  ceased  running.  I  washed 
my  mouth,  got  up  and  walked  around.  I  no  longer 
felt  a  tightness  here  in  my  side.  I  felt  light  on  foot;  as 
if  I  could  run  and  jump,  and  I  was  hungry.  I  knew 
what  had  happened;  even  as  the  old  man  had  foretold, 
the  growth  inside  me  had  been  clawed  open.  I  was  well. 
We  made  great  sacrifice  for  this  next  day.  I  have  been 
well  ever  since.  Not  only  that,  but  my  medicine  has 
cured  many  sick  ones.  Kyi!" 

That  is  one  of  the  stories  I  heard  that  winter  and  jotted 
down  in  my  note-book.  Verily,  there  is  nothing  like 
faith  and  courage  for  the  cure  of  ills,  mental  and  physi- 
cal, in  savage  and  in  the  civilised  alike. 

For  Nat-ah'-ki  and  for  me  this  was  a  happy  winter. 
It  was  for  all  of  us  except  Berry,  who  chafed  over  the 
"endless  days  of  cold  and  snow."  I  don't  know  how 
many  times  he  went  down  on  the  flat  and  measured  it. 
So  many  acres  here  for  oats,  so  many  there  for  potatoes, 


STORY  OF  ANCIENT  SLEEPER  317 

for  turnips,  for  peas.  We  would  buy  a  lot  of  sows,  he 
said,  and  raise  pigs  as  well  as  cattle.  Spring  came  early. 
Toward  the  end  of  March  the  bulls  were  rounded  up  and 
yoked  to  the  plows.  Old  Mrs.  Berry  and  the  Crow 
Woman  prepared  a  little  plot  of  ground  in  a  bend  of  the 
creek,  and  sorted  seeds  they  had  obtained  at  some  dis- 
tant time  from  their  people,  the  Mandans  and  Rees. 
I  didn't  know  anything  about  ploughing  and  planting, 
nor  did  I  wish  to  learn. 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  rode  among  the  cattle — and  found 
that  the  calves  disappeared  about  as  fast  as  they  were 
born.  Wolves  were  numerous.  "Oh!"  she  would 
exclaim,  as  we  rode  slowly  homeward  from  a  day  with 
the  cattle.  "Oh,  isn't  this  happy  and  peaceful!  Our 
strong,  warm  home  there,  our  pretty  room,  the  men 
planting  things  for  us,  the  good  meat  we  own  feeding 
on  these  hills.  Oh,  it  is  much  better  than  living  in  a 
camp  and  trailing  from  place  to  place  access  endless 
plains,  ever  expecting  to  hear  the  yells  of  the  enemy 
and  the  whistle  of  bullets!" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  I  replied.  "This  is  good 
enough.  I  like  any  place  my  little  woman  likes;  but 
don't  you  remember  what  fun  we  had  in  camp,  the 
dancing  and  feasting,  the  big  hunts,  the  stories  we  heard 
of  nights.  That  was  great  fun,  Nat-ah'-ki." 

"Shame  on  you!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  really  believe 
you  are  an  Indian,  even  if  your  skin  is  white.  Now, 
I  want  to  be  white,  to  live  like  white  people,  and  I'm 
just  going  to  make  you  do  so,  too.  Do  you  hear?  You 
must  quit  these  Indian  ways." 

In  June  more  than  a  foot  of  snow  fell  upon  our  fields 
of  growing  things,  and  when  it  melted,  there  came  a 
frost  and  froze  everything.  Berry  cursed  loud  and 
frequently.  In  July  and  August  we  tried  to  put  up  some 


3i8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

hay,  but  rain  spoiled  it  as  fast  as  it  was  cut.  In  the 
fall  we  had  no  grain  to  thresh,  no  potatoes  nor  turnips, 
not  even  cabbage  to  put  into  our  big  root  house.  After 
the  fall  branding,  we  found  that  we  had  an  increase  in 
our  cattle  of  only  15  per  cent.  The  wolves  were  ac- 
countable for  the  additional  forty-five  per  cent,  we  should 
have  had.  "This  here  ranching  and  cattle  raising," 
said  Berry,  "isn't  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be.  Let's 
sell  out  and  get  back  into  the  trade.  There's  more  fun 
and  excitement  in  that  anyhow." 

Of  course  I  agreed  to  that,  and  he  went  into  Fort 
Benton  to  find  a  buyer  for  the  place.  He  found  one,  but 
the  man  would  not  make  the  deal  until  spring,  so  we  put 
in  another  winter  there,  which  was  also  a  happy  one  for 
some  of  us — for  Nat-ah'-ki  and  me,  at  least.  Ah,  me! 
why  shouldn't  we  have  been  happy?  We  were  young, 
we  loved  each  other;  nothing  else  mattered. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
DIANA'S  MARRIAGE 

MAY  found  us  again  installed  in  the  little  abode  in 
Fort  Benton,  but  not  for  long.  Berry  was  anx- 
ious to  be  doing  something  and,  learning  that  Fort 
Conrad  was  for  sale,  we  bought  it.  This  place,  as  I 
have  previously  mentioned,  was  built  at  the  upper  end 
of  a  large  bottom  on  the  Marias  River,  where  the  Dry 
Fork  joins  the  larger  stream.  It  was  not  much  of  a  fort, 
just  two  rows  of  connecting  log  cabins,  with  stables  and 
a  corral  at  the  west  end  of  them,  the  whole  thing  form- 
ing three  sides  of  a  square.  It  was  a  good  location,  how- 
ever, for,  besides  the  trade  in  robes  we  expected  to  get, 
it  was  on  the  trail  between  Fort  Benton  and  Fort  Mac- 
leod,  and  the  travel  and  freighting  over  it  was  heavy 
in  the  summer  time.  The  women  were  especially 
pleased  with  the  purchase.  They  had  regretted  leaving 
our  home  on  Back  Fat  Creek,  but  now  they  had  another 
one,  farther  away  from  the  mountains,  where  the  sum- 
mers were  warmer  and  longer.  "Here,"  said  Crow 
Woman,  "my  beans  and  corn  and  squash  will  surely 
grow.  I  am  glad." 

"This  is  happiness,"  Nat-ah'-ki  said,  as  we  sat  in  the 
shade  of  a  big  cottonwood  by  the  river's  edge.  "See 
the  beautiful  trees  above  there,  and  below,  and  the 
pretty  island  with  its  young  timber.  And  on  all  sides 
the  high,  steep  hills — protection  from  the  winter  winds." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "it  is  a  pretty  place.  I  like  it  better 
than  I  did  the  other  one." 

319 


32o  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Say  this  for  me,"  she  continued,  leaning  over  and 
drawing  me  to  her.  "Say  this:  We  will  live  here  al- 
ways; live  here  until  we  die,  and  they  bury  us  out  across 
there  where  the  big  trees  grow." 

I  said  it,  and  added  thereto,  "If  it  be  possible  for  us 
to  do  so,"  watching  the  expectant,  pleased  expression 
of  her  eyes  suddenly  change  to  one  of  pain. 

"Oh,  why,"  she  asked,  "why  did  you  spoil  it  all? 
Don't  you  know  that  you  can  do  anything  you  wish  to?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  I  replied.  "No  one  can  always  do 
only  that  he  wishes  to  do.  But  let  us  not  worry;  we 
will  try  to  live  here  always." 

"Yes,"  she  sighed,  "we  will  try;  we  will  have  courage. 
Oh,  good  Sun,  kind  Sun!  Pity  us!  Let  us  live  here 
in  peace  and  happiness  to  great  age." 

Even  then  Berry  and  I  had  some  idea  of  the  changes 
that  were  to  take  place,  but  we  did  not  dream  that  they 
were  so  near  at  hand.  We  looked  for  the  old,  free,  care- 
less times  to  last  for  fifteen  or  twenty  years  at  least. 

Unannounced,  without  having  written  a  line  of  their 
intention  to  visit  us,  Ashton  and  Diana  drove  in  from 
Fort  Benton  one  evening,  having  arrived  there  by  steam- 
boat the  day  before.  Nothing  could  have  pleased  us 
more  than  to  welcome  them  back.  Nat-ah'-ki  actually 
cried  from  joy  as  she  clasped  her  "  daughter"  in  her  arms. 
We  noticed  instantly  a  great  change  in  Ashton.  We 
could  no  longer  call  him  Never  Laughs,  for  he  began 
joking  and  laughing  before  he  got  out  of  the  wagon; 
there  was  a  merry  glint  in  his  eyes ;  he  ran  around  like 
a  boy,  throwing  things  out  recklessly.  The  sad,  sol- 
emn, silent,  slow-moving  Ashton  had  been,  as  it  were, 
reincarnated ;  and  it  did  us  good  to  see  the  change  in  him ; 
it  made  us  joyous  with  him. 

And  Diana,  ah!  there  was  a  woman,   if   you   please! 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  321 

Words  fail  me.  I  cannot  describe  her.  Diana  she  was 
in  features  and  figure,  but  the  spirit  within  was  that  of 
the  noble,  human,  loving,  gentle  woman — all  pure,  all 
good.  Who  could  believe  that  this  was  the  thin,  frail, 
wild-eyed  little  thing  Ashton  had  rescued  and  brought  to 
our  lodge  not  so  many  years  since  ?  Could  this  lovely, 
accomplished,  refined  woman  have  been  born  in  a  lodge 
and  trailed  with  her  people  over  the  plains  in  pursuit  of 
the  moving  herds?  It  seemed  impossible. 

What  a  happy  evening  we  passed.  How  vivacious, 
and  affectionate  Diana  was,  sitting  now  with  Nat-ah'-ki, 
again  with  the  old  woman,  clasping  them  lovingly  in 
her  arms,  inquiring  into  all  the  little  incidents  of  their 
daily  lives.  Education,  travel,  a  knowledge  of  the 
great  world  had  not  turned  her  head;  the  people  of  her 
blood  were  as  dear  to  her  as  ever.  She  told  me  that 
it  had  been  her  daily  practice  to  speak  over  in  the  quiet 
of  her  room  so  much  Blackfoot,  to  translate  a  verse  or 
two  of  English  into  it,  lest  she  forget  her  mother's 
tongue. 

I  cast  about  in  my  mind  for  the  cause  of  the  change 
in  Ashton.  "Perhaps,"  I  thought,  "he  has  fallen  in 
love  with  Diana;  is  going  to  marry  her;  he  may  al- 
ready have  married  her."  I  looked  at  her  hand;  she 
wore  neither  engagement  nor  wedding  ring.  It  was 
late  when  we  separated,  Diana  going  with  the  old 
woman  to  their  room,  Ashton  to  a  spare  one  we  had. 
When  we  were  alone,  Nat-ah'-ki  came  over,  leaned 
against  me,  and  sighed  heavily.  "What  is  it?"  I 
asked.  "Why  are  you  sad?" 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  am  so  disappointed. 
This  long,  long  time  I  have  been  praying  for  it,  yet  it 
has  not  come  to  pass.  Why  doesn't  he  marry  my 
daughter?  Is  it  that  he  thinks  she  is  not  good  enough 


322  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

for  him?  That  he  does  not  love  her?  How  can  he  help 
loving  one  so  handsome,  so  good,  so  true-hearted?" 

"Little  woman,"  I  said,  "don't  be  impatient.  I 
think  everything  will  come  right.  Have  you  not  noticed 
how  different  he  is — how  he  laughs,  how  bright  his  eyes 
are?  I  am  sure  that  he  loves  her;  that  if  he  has  not 
asked  her  to  marry  him,  he  will  when  he  thinks  that  the 
right  time  has  come." 

Little  did  we  think  as  we  sat  and  talked,  how  near 
that  time  was,  and  what  an  unexpected  and  dramatic 
event  would  lead  up  to  it.  'Twas  a  few  evenings  later. 
Ashton  was  lazily  smoking,  sitting  by  the  table  in  my 
room.  There  was  a  bit  of  fire  on  the  hearth,  occasion- 
ally flaring  up  and  illuminating  the  rude  walls,  again 
dying  away,  leaving  everything  shadowy  and  dim. 
Diana  and  Nat-ah'-ki  sat  together  on  a  couch;  I  lay 
stretched  out  on  the  bed.  We  were  all  silent,  each  one 
occupied  with  his  thoughts.  A  team  and  wagon  were 
driven  into  the  little  square  outside,  and  through  the 
open  door  we  heard  a  silvery,  anxious  voice  ask,  "Can 
you  tell  me,  sir,  if  Mr.  Ashton  is  stopping  here?" 

Ashton  sprang  from  his  chair,  made  one  or  two  strides, 
stopped,  considering  something  for  a  moment,  then 
returned  and  resumed  his  seat. 

"Yes,  madam,"  Berry  was  saying,  "he  is  here;  you 
will  find  him  over  in  that  room." 

She  did  not  notice  us  as  she  hurried  in.  The  flame 
leaped  up,  revealing  Ashton's  face,  pale  and  stern.  She 
hurried  over  to  him  and  placed  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"Oh,  my  dear,"  she  cried,  "I've  found  you  at  last.  I 
wrote  several  times.  Did  you  never  get  my  letters? 
Oh,  I'm  free;  free,  do  you  hear?  I've  got  my  divorce; 
I've  come  to  tell  you  that  it  was  all  a  mistake;  to  beg 
your  forgiveness;  to——" 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  323 

"Diana,  child,  come  here,"  said  Ashton,  quietly, 
interrupting  her.  The  girl  arose  and  walked  over  to 
him,  placed  her  hand  in  the  one  he  held  out  to  her  ap- 
pealingly.  The  woman — and  she  was  a  tall,  handsome 
one,  too;  fair-haired,  blue-eyed — stood  looking  at  them 
in  astonishment,  in  fear,  her  hands  clasped  convulsively 
on  her  bosom. 

"Diana,  my  dear,"  Ashton  continued,  looking  loving- 
ly down  into  her  face,  "will  you  marry  me?" 

"Yes,   Chief,"   she  replied,   clearly,   firmly.     "Yes." 

He  arose,  and  put  his  arm  around  her,  facing  the 
other  woman.  "Sadie,"  he  said,  "I  forgive  you  all  that 
you  have  done  to  me — your  broken  promises,  your 
unfaithfulness,  the  years  of  misery  I  passed  in  trying  to 
forget.  I  have  found  peace  and  happiness  at  last, 
thanks  to  this  dear  one  by  my  side.  I  bid  you  good- 
night, and  good-bye.  No  doubt  you  will  be  returning  to 
town  early  in  the  morning." 

With  his  arm  still  around  her  waist,  he  and  Diana 
passed  out  of  the  room.  The  woman  sank  into  the  chair 
he  had  vacated,  bent  over  on  the  table,  burying  her  face 
in  her  arms,  and  sobbed  heart-brokenly.  Nat-ah'-ki 
and  I  arose,  and  also  left  the  room,  tiptoeing  across  the 
floor  and  out  into  the  night.  "Oh!"  the  little  woman 
exclaimed,  when  we  were  well  beyond  the  fort.  "Oh!" 
and  she  shook  me  as  hard  as  she  could.  "Why  didn't 
you  teach  me  your  language?  Tell  me  quick,  who  she 
is.  What  said  they?  What  did  he  tell  my  daugh- 
ter?" 

I  explained  it  all  as  clearly  as  I  could,  and  then  Nat- 
ah'-ki  nearly  went  crazy  with  joy.  She  danced  around 
me,  and  kissed  me,  and  said  that  I  was  a  good  boy.  1 
hoped  I  was.  I  couldn't  see,  though,  that  I  had  done 
anything  to  further  this  much-desired  end  of  affairs 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

between  Ashton  and  Diana.  We  came  upon  them 
sitting  on  the  shore  end  of  our  ferryboat.  "  Come  here," 
said  Ashton.  Diana  jumped  up  and  embraced  Nit- 
ah'-ki,  and  the  two  went  back  to  the  house. 

"Old  man,"  I  said,  "I  congratulate  you.  You've 
found  peace  and  happiness,  as  you  well  said  a  few  mo- 
ments ago.  You  can't  help  being  happy  with  Diana." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  "isn't  she — my  boy,  what  she 
is  to  me,  has  long  been,  is  beyond  the  telling.  I  feel  that 
I  am  not  worthy  of  her;  yet  she  loves  me  devotedly, 
truly.  She  told  me  so  here  to-night." 

"But  about  the  other  one?"  I  ventured.  "What  are 
we  going  to  do  with  her?" 

"She  cannot  go  back  to-night.  Have  Nat-ah'-ki  give 
her  something  to  eat  and  a  bed.  I  presume  her  driver 
can  look  out  for  himself." 

"That  woman  has  been  the  curse  of  my  life,"  he  added. 
"  I  loved  her  deeply,  devotedly.  She  promised  to  marry 
me.  I  believed  in  her  goodness  and  faithfulness  as  one 
does  in  that  of  his  mother.  But  she  threw  me  over 
for  a  wealthier  man.  And  now — now — well,  enough 
of  her;  I'm  going  to  find  Diana  and  ask  her  to  walk 
with  me." 

"There  is  some  cold,  boiled  meat,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki, 
"  some  bread  and  stewed  sarvis  berries.  If  she  will  come 
into  the  Indian  country  hunting  my  daughter's  man, 
even  that  is  too  good  for  her.  I  will  make  her  a  bed  of 
buffalo  robes  and  blankets,  although  she  doesn't  de- 
serve it." 

But  the  woman  would  not  eat.  Nat-ah'-ki  made  a  bed 
for  her  on  the  floor  of  the  trade  room,  and  there  we  left 
her  to  her  thoughts — and  they  were  no  doubt  bitter. 
In  the  morning  she  asked  for  Ashton,  begged  me  tell  him 
to  come  to  her  for  a  moment.  I  told  her  that  he  bad 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  325 

gone  hunting  and  would  not  return  until  evening.  She 
chafed  at  the  driver's  delay  in  hitching  up,  refused  any- 
thing but  a  cup  of  coffee  which  I  carried  in  to  her.  At 
last  the  team  was  ready,  and  she  got  in  and  started  away 
without  once  looking  back,  without  even  thanking  us 
for  her  night's  lodging.  And  thus  she  passed  out  of 
Ashton's  life. 

I  had  told  her  truly  that  Ashton  had  gone  hunting; 
he  and  Diana  had  ridden  away  at  sun-up,  but  I  imagine 
they  did  not  go  far — waiting  on  some  nearby  hill  to  see 
the  visitor  depart.  As  soon  as  the  conveyance  had 
crossed  the  bottom  and  climbed  the  hill  up  on  to  the 
plain,  they  returned,  as  happy  and  high-spirited  as  two 
children,  and  we  all  had  breakfast  together. 

"This  is  what  we  may  call  our  wedding  breakfast," 
said  Ashton,  as  we  all  sat  down. 

"That  so?"  Berry  asked.  "Are  you  going  in  to  the 
Fort  to-day  and  be  married?  You  can't  make  it  with 
such  a  late  start." 

"No,"  he  replied,  hesitatingly.  "No.  Diana  and  I 
have  talked  the  matter  over,  and  we  are  agreed  that 
a  simple  signed  and  witnessed  marriage  contract  is  just 
as  valid  as  is  a  marriage  before  a  justice  of  the  peace  or  by 
a  clergyman.  We  intend  to  make  it  out  this  morning. 
What  think  you,  friends?" 

"It  strikes  me  all  right,"  said  Berry. 

"And  me,  too,"  I  replied. 

"My  parents  married  without  any  ceremony  what- 
ever," Diana  remarked.  "Anyhow,  what  pleases  my 
Chief  pleases  me."  She  looked  across  at  him,  and  there 
was  a  world  of  love  and  faith  in  her  eyes. 

Nat-ah'-ki,  sitting  by  my  side,  gently  pressed  my 
knee,  which  was  one  of  her  ways  of  asking  what  was 
being  said.  I  told  her,  but  she  made  no  comment, 


326  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

remaining  silent  during  the  meal.  The  old  woman  and 
Mrs.  Berry  were  pleased  with  the  idea.  "Ai!"  said  the 
Crow  Woman.  "Let  him  fix  the  paper.  It  is  enough; 
writing  cannot  lie.  What  matters  a  Black  Robe  saying 
many  words?  People  married  and  lived  happily  to- 
gether all  their  lives  before  these  talking  men  were  ever 
heard  of.  They  can  do  so  still." 

But  after  breakfast  Nat-ah'-ki  called  me  aside.  "Will 
this  way  of  writing  things  make  her  sure  enough  his 
wife  ? ' '  she  asked.  ' '  A  wife  according  to  the  white  men 's 
laws?" 

"Indeed  it  will,"  I  replied.  "It  will  be  a  marriage 
that  can  no  more  be  put  aside  than  ours.  As  strong  as 
if  a  thousand  Black  Robes  together  had  said  the  words." 

"  It  is  well  then ;  I  am  glad ;  let  them  do  it  at  once.  I 
want  to  see  my  daughter  married  and  happy  with  this 
good  man." 

Right  there  on  the  dining  table,  the  breakfast  things 
having  been  cleared  away,  we  drew  up  the  paper,  Ashton 
and  I.  Omitting  the  date  and  signatures,  it  read: 

"We,  the  undersigned,  hereby  agree  to  live  together 
as  man  and  wife  until  death  parts  us." 

Short,  wasn't  it?  They  signed  it.  So  did  Berry  and 
I,  as  witnesses,  the  women  standing  by  and  watching  us 
interestedly.  Then  Ashton  took  Diana  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  gently  before  us  all.  There  were  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

You  see  how  frank  and  open  they  were  before  us;  not 
at  all  ashamed  to  show  their  love,  express  their  feelings. 
It  did  us  good.  We  felt  that  we  were  witnessing  some- 
thing very  sacred,  very  ennobling.  It  made  us  think 
good  thoughts;  gave  us  the  desire  to  lead  better  lives 
ourselves. 

They  went  out,  remounted  their  horses  and  passed  the 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  327 

day  somewhere  on  the  big  plains  which  Diana  loved  so 
well.  In  the  evening  we  saw  them  returning,  riding  slowly 
side  by  side.  " The  Sun  is  good,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki.  "He 
has  listened  to  my  prayers  and  given  them  perfect 
happiness.  Tell  me,  do  you  love  me  as  much  as  he 
does  my  beautiful  daughter?" 

Never  mind  what  my  answer  was.  I  think  it  was 
satisfactory. 

The  marriage  contract  was  sent  in  to  Fort  Benton 
and  recorded  by  the  County  Clerk.  Unless  it  was  burned 
in  the  fire  which  destroyed  the  Court  House  some  years 
later,  the  curious  may  find  the  transcription  there.  The 
contract  itself  stamped  with  the  county  seal,  was  duly 
returned  and  given  to  Diana. 

We  now  made  ready  for  a  hunt,  long  postponed.  Nat- 
ah'-ki  sent  for  her  mother,  I  for  my  good  friends  Weasel 
Tail  and  Talks- with-the-buffalo,  just  three  lodges  of  us. 
They  having  arrived,  we  pulled  out  westward  one  lovely 
July  morning,  en  route  to  the  Two  Medicine  Lakes. 
Passing  the  Medicine  Rock,  Nat-ah'-ki  seriously  and 
Diana  mischievously  laid  upon  it  little  sacrifices,  the 
former  a  bead  necklace,  the  latter  a  bow  of  ribbon  from 
her  hair.  For  some  ten  or  twelve  miles  the  trail  led  over 
the  high  rolling  plains,  where  we  saw  some  antelope  and 
a  few  buffalo.  Weasel  Tail  circled  out  and  killed  one  of 
the  former,  a  fat,  dry  doe,  which  saved  Ashton  and  me 
from  making  any  exertion  toward  supplying  meat  that 
hot  day.  'Twas  more  pleasant  when  we  again  rode  down 
into  the  valley  of  the  Marias,  where  the  trail  wound 
through  cool  groves  of  cottonwood,  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  the  river,  over  shallow,  rippling  fords,  where 
the  animals  drank  as  if  they  could  never  get  enough. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  we  arrived  at  Willows  Round,  a 


328  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

large,  broad  bottom,  where  good  old  Sorrel  Horse  had, 
as  he  said,  ceased  from  wandering  and  built  himself  a 
home.  At  that  time  this  place,  our  Fort  Conrad,  and 
Mose  Solomon's,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  were  the  only 
ones  located  on  the  whole  length  of  the  Marias.  Now 
every  last  bottom  on  both  sides  of  it,  no  matter  how 
small,  dry,  and  worthless  it  may  be,  is  enclosed  with 
someone's  wire  fence. 

Our  lodges  were  pitched  near  the  new  cabin  of  peeled, 
shining  logs,  and  we  strolled  over  to  inspect  it.  Sorrel 
Horse  greeted  Diana  with  marked  embarrassment.  She 
seemed  to  him,  with  her  dainty,  gracious  ways,  dressed 
as  she  was  in  a  wonderfully  becoming  out-door  suit, 
to  be  a  creature  from  a  far  and  unknown  world.  He 
addressed  her  as  "Miss  Ashton."  I  corrected  him. 
"Mrs.  Ashton,"  he  said,  "excuse  me,  ma'm." 

Diana  walked  over  and  placed  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"Dear  friend,"  she  said,  "is  that  all  the  greeting  you 
have  for  me — can't  you  wish  me  joy  ? " 

His  constrained  manner  disappeared  instantly;  he 
bent  over  and  lightly  kissed  her.  "Bless  your  heart," 
he  said.  "I  wish  you  all  the  happiness  in  this  world. 
Put  it  there;  shake." 

In  the  evening  he  brought  over  a  bundle  of  fine  beaver 
skins  and  threw  them  down  by  the  doorway  of  our  lodge. 
"Here's  something,"  he  told  Diana,  "for  your  wedding 
present.  They'll  make  you  a  warm  cloak.  Somehow 
this  ranchin'  business  don't  hit  me  right;  it's  too  lone- 
some, and  I  can't  help  but  go  out  an'  set  my  traps  once 
in  a  while." 

Bear  Head  was  camping  with  Sorrel  Horse,  herding 
the  cattle  and  making  himself  generally  useful ;  but  when 
we  came  along  he  threw  up  his  job  and  ordered  his  wife 
to  make  preparations  to  accompany  us.  The  grim  old 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  329 

mountains  were  calling  him  also.  There  were  now  four 
lodges  of  us.  Bear  Head's  the  greatest,  for  it  sheltered 
a  half  dozen  children  of  various  ages.  Their  happy 
laughter  and  prattle  enlivened  our  otherwise  quiet 
camp. 

In  the  morning  an  early  start  was  made,  and  evening 
found  us  away  up  on  the  Medicine  River,  where  the 
first  pines  grow.  The  next  noon  we  went  into  camp  on 
the  shores  of  the  lake,  our  lodges  being  pitched  in  a  grassy 
little  bit  of  prairie  on  the  north  side.  Back  of  us  rose 
the  long,  high  pine  and  quaking  aspen  ridge,  which  divides 
the  deep  valley  from  the  plains.  In  front,  across  the 
lake,  was  a  long  cliff-topped  mountain  of  gray  sandstone, 
its  slope  densely  forested  with  pines.  The  grand  view 
was  to  the  west.  First,  but  three  or  four  miles  distant, 
a  huge,  heart-shaped,  snow-patched  mountain,  which  I 
named  Rising  Wolf,  in  honour  of  the  greatest  plainsman 
of  us  all,  my  friend  Hugh  Monroe.  Beyond  that,  hem- 
ming in  a  vast  amphitheatre  of  lake  and  forest,  rose 
more  mountains,  cliff-faced  and  needle-pointed,  forming 
the  divide  of  the  great  range.  Rose  and  gold  they  were 
in  the  rising  sun,  jet  black  when  silhouetted  against  the 
evening  sky.  We  never  tired  of  gazing  at  them,  their 
shifting  colours,  the  fleecy  clouds  of  a  morning  banding 
their  splendid  heights. 

The  camp  site  selected,  Ashton  and  I  jointed  the  rods 
he  had  brought  out  from  the  East,  set  reels,  strung  lines, 
and  attached  the  moistened  leaders  and  flies.  Then  we 
walked  down  to  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  only  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  distant,  followed  by  every  one  in  our  camp, 
including  the  children.  I  had  talked  about  the  pleasures 
of  fly-fishing.  The  Indians  were  anxious  to  see  this,  to 
them,  new  phase  of  the  white  man's  arts.  Ashton  made 
the  first  cast,  and  his  artificial  flies  were  the  first  that 


330  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

ever  lit  upon  the  waters  of  the  Two  Medicine.  The  re- 
sponse was  generous.  The  placid  water  heaved  and 
swirled  with  the  rush  of  unsophisticated  trout,  and  one 
big  fellow,  leaping  clear  from  the  depths,  took  the 
dropper  with  him  in  his  descent.  The  women  screamed. 
"Ah-hah-hai'l"  the  men  exclaimed,  clapping  hand  to 
mouth,  "Strange  are  the  ways  of  the  white  men.  Their 
shrewdness  has  no  end;  they  can  do  everything." 

The  big  trout  made  a  good  fight,  as  all  good  trout 
should  do,  and  at  last  came  to  the  surface  floating  on  its 
side,  exhausted.  I  slipped  the  landing  net  under  it 
and  lifted  it  out,  and  again  there  were  exclamations  of 
surprise  from  our  audience,  with  many  comments  upon 
the  success  of  it  all,  the  taking  of  so  large  a  fish  with  such 
delicate  tackle.  Trout  we  had  hi  abundance,  rolled  in 
yellow  corn  meal  and  fried  to  that  delicate  brown  colour, 
and  unsurpassable  flavour  which  all  true  fishermen 
appreciate. 

The  sandbars  along  the  inlet  to  the  lake  were  all  cut 
up  with  tracks  of  elk  and  occasional  moose.  Once  upon 
a  time  the  beavers  had  constructed  a  huge  dam  clear 
across  the  valley  and  parallel  with  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
but  the  stream  had  broken  through  it,  and  the  erstwhile 
bed  of  the  great  pond  was  now  an  almost  impenetrable 
thicket  of  red  willow,  a  favourite  food  of  the  moose. 
Ashton  said  that  he  wanted  to  kill  one  of  the  great 
animals,  and  requested  us  to  let  him  have  that  especial 
part  of  the  valley  for  his  hunting  ground.  Thither  hei 
and  Diana  wended  their  way  every  afternoon  to  wait 
and  watch  for  some  unwary  game  to  appear,  often  re- 
maining so  late  that  they  had  no  little  difficulty  in  find- 
ing their  way  home  through  the  dark  forest.  Thus  day 
after  day  was  passed,  but  no  shot  was  ever  heard  from 
their  retreat,  and  each  night  they  had  to  report  that  they 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  331 

hadn't  seen  a  living  thing  larger  than  a  passing  mink 
or  beaver. 

"The  newly  married  man,"  Bear  Head  remarked, 
' '  can  only  get  meat  by  leaving  his  woman  in  the  lodge  and 
going  away  to  hunt  alone." 

"  Ai ,  that  it  true,"  Weasel  Tail  agreed.  "They  cannot 
sit  quietly  together.  They  have  so  much  to  say:  'Do 
you  love  me?  Why  do  you  love  me?  Will  you  always 
love  me?'  Such  are  the  questions  they  ask  each  other, 
over  and  over  again,  and  never  tire  of  answering.  I 
know  all  about  it;  we  were  that  way  ourselves  once, 
hah,  my  girl?" 

"Ai!"  his  wife  replied,  "that  you  were,  and  you  still 
keep  asking  those  questions.  How  silly  you  are!" 

Of  course,  we  all  laughed  at  Weasel  Tail,  and  in  truth 
he  looked  rather  sheepish  over  his  wife's  frank  dis- 
closure. He  hurriedly  changed  the  subject  by  saying 
that  he  would  himself  go  with  the  hunters  in  the  after- 
noon, and  try  to  get  them  a  shot  at  the  desired  game. 

They  returned  quite  early  that  evening,  and  asked 
Weasel  Tail  to  eat  supper  with  us.  "Well,  what  luck 
had  you?"  I  inquired. 

Neither  Diana  nor  Ashton  seemed  inclined  to  answer, 
bending  over  their  plates  after  a  quick  glance  at  each 
other,  and  becoming  very  much  interested  in  their 
food.  I  repeated  the  question  in  Blackfoot,  and  Weasel 
Tail  laughed  heartily.  "It  is  as  I  suspected,"  he  re- 
plied. "There  are  many  tracks  on  the  sandbars  of  elk, 
and  moose,  and  deer,  but  they  are  very  old;  no  game 
has  been  along  there  these  many  days.  Out  on  the 
point  of  a  sandbar  lies  a  big  log,  from  which  one  can  see 
far  up  and  down  the  river.  There  they  have  sat,  and 
the  game,  coming  to  water,  have  seen  them  first,  looking 
cautiously  through  the  bushes  before  stepping  out  in  the 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

open.  They  have  talked,  too,  very  low  they  say,  but 
a  moose  can  hear  even  the  fall  of  a  distant  leaf.  Also, 
the  winds  have  blown  up  and  down  and  across  the  val- 
ley, and  told  of  their  presence,  and  one  by  one  the  ani- 
mals have  left,  sneaking  away  with  careful  footfalls  to 
distant  places." 

"Well,  it  doesn't  matter,"  said  Diana,  in  Blackfoot. 
"We  have  sat  and  looked  at  the  grand  old  mountains, 
and  the  clear  streams,  the  feeding  trout  and  prowling 
minks,  and  our  tramps  have  given  us  health  and  strength. 
After  all,  that  is  better  than  killing  things.  Isn't  that 
true,  Chief?"  she  asked,  repeating  to  Ashton  in  English 
what  she  had  said. 

"We  have  certainly  had  a  pleasant  time,  my  dear," 
he  replied,  smilingly;  "but  we  have  not  contributed 
our  share;  we  must  try  some  other  place  to-morrow, 
and  bring  home  meat." 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  went  with  them  the  following  morn- 
ing, riding  up  the  valley  to  the  shore  of  the  upper  lake 
on  the  way.  We  stopped  to  view  the  falls,  which  are 
certainly  interesting.  The  river  disappears  in  a  mass 
of  large  boulders  a  short  distance  below  the  lake,  and 
a  mile  farther  down  gushes  from  a  canon  in  a  high  cliff 
into  a  lovely  foam-flecked  pool.  The  cliff  itself  is  at 
least  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  the  fall  is  about  a 
third  of  that.  There  are  no  trout  above  the  pool. 

Seen  from  a  distance,  the  mountain  I  had  named 
Rising  Wolf  was  grand  and  imposing;  from  a  nearer 
view,  it  proved  to  be  a  truly  stupendous  mass  of  red  and 
black,  and  dark-gray  slate.  It  rises  steeply  from  the 
depths  of  the  lake  in  a  series  of  reefs  and  cliffs,  cut  by 
streams  of  talus,  and  tapers  to  a  sharp,  walled  dome. 
High  up  on  its  eastern  side,  in  a  deep  and  timbered 
pocket,  lies  a  field  of  perpetual  snow  and  ice.  There 


DIANA'S  MARRIAGE  333 

are  grassy  slopes,  and  groves  of  pine,  thickets  of  sarvis 
and  blueberry  here  and  there,  clear  up  to  the  foot  of 
the  dome. 

"Mah-kwo'-i-pwo-ahts!  Mah-kwo'-i-pwo-ahts!"  * 
said  Nat-ah'-ki,  softly.  "Truly,  his  name  will  never 
die." 

I  know  not  what  life  there  may  be  now  upon  the 
mountain's  grassy  slopes  and  beetling  cliffs,  but  on  that 
day  the  wild  creatures  were  certainly  in  evidence.  On 
the  lower  part  several  bands  of  ewe  bighorn  and  their 
young;  higher  up,  singly  and  two  and  three  and  four 
together,  some  old  rams,  lazily  feeding  or  lying  down, 
but  always  watchful  of  their  surroundings.  And  then, 
up  on  the  higher  cliffs  there  were  goats,  numbers  of  them, 
the  snow-white,  uncouth,  long-haired  alpine  creatures 
which  the  naturalists  tell  us  are  really  antelope. 

"Always  Laughing,"  said  Nat-ah'-ki  to  Ashton — 
she  had  given  him  a  new  and  happier  name,  you  per- 
ceive— "remember  your  words  of  yesterday!  Across 
up  there  is  plenty  of  fat  meat;  go  and  kill  some,  lest  we 
starve." 

"Oh,"  he  said  to  Diana,  "tell  her  that  it  would  be  a 
sin  to  kill  the  pretty  things.  We  cannot  starve,  for 
there  are  always  plenty  of  trout  to  be  caught  in  the 
pool  below  our  lodge." 

"In  other  words,"  I  remarked,  "he  is  too  lazy  to 
climb.  Well,  I  will  not  go.  I  have  killed  my  share  of 
the  provisions,  and  we'll  do  without  meat  until  he  pro- 
vides it." 

Just  then  a  big  bull  elk  appeared  on  the  farther  shore 
of  the  outlet,  and  Ashton,  crawling  slowly  back  into  the 
timber  behind  us,  went  after  it.  We  sat  as  still  as  pos- 
sible, anxiously  watching  the  animal  and  our  horses, 

"Rising  Wolf!    Rising  Wolf  I 


334  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

fearing  that  it  would  take  fright  at  them.  The  women 
were  so  excited  that  they  could  scarcely  contain  them- 
selves. "Oh,"  one  would  whisper,  "why  doesn't  he 
hurry?"  And  then  the  other,  "It  is  going  away,  he'll 
never  get  a  shot  at  it.  Isn't  it  too  bad?" 

The  bull  was  in  a  happy  mood.  He  drank  standing 
belly-deep  in  the  water,  walked  out  and  kicked  up  his 
heels,  raced  up  and  down  the  beach  several  times, 
sniffed  and  pawed  the  sand.  And  then  a  rifle  cracked, 
and  he  fell  limply,  instantly,  and  never  even  kicked.  We 
went  over  with  the  horses,  and  I  cut  up  the  animal, 
taking  all  the  best  of  the  fat  and  juicy  meat. 

Thus  the  days  passed  in  peace  and  happiness. 
Before  we  left,  the  skins  of  bear  and  moose  and  elk, 
deer  and  goat  and  beaver  adorned  our  camp,  killed 
mostly  by  the  Indians.  Ashton  hunted  little.  He 
preferred  to  sit  and  gaze  into  Diana's  splendid  love-lit 
eyes,  and  I — had  I  not  Nat-ah'-ki,  faithful,  true,  and 
tried  companion?  Her  gay  laughter  and  happy  chatter 
is  still  echoing  in  my  ears. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

A    GAME    OP    FATE 

WE  RETURNED  to  the  fort  early  in  September,  and 
shortly  afterward  Ashton  and  Diana  went  East. 
Nat-ah'-ki  was  for  a  time  well  nigh  prostrated  over  the 
separation,  for  she  fairly  worshipped  Diana.  Indeed 
we  all  felt  sorry  to  see  them  depart,  for  they  were  truly, 
both  of  them,  very  near  and  dear  to  us  all. 

During  the  summer  we  had  put  in  a  good  stock  of 
merchandise,  expecting  to  have  a  fine  winter  trade  at 
the  fort,  but  now  came  the  disquieting  news  that  there 
were  practically  no  buffalo  to  the  north,  the  west,  or  the 
south  of  us.  We  could  not  believe  it  at  first ;  it  seemed 
impossible;  somewhere  away  to  the  north  we  argued, 
the  great  herds  still  roamed,  and  in  due  time  they  would 
return.  But  theory  soon  gave  way  to  fact.  Save  for 
a  few  hundred  in  the  Great  Slave  Lake  country,  and  a 
few  more  scattered  about  the  Porcupine  Hills,  the 
buffalo  had  drifted  southeastward  from  the  plains  of 
Northwestern  Canada  into  Montana,  and  they  never 
recrossed  the  line.  This  was  the  winter  of  1878-79,  it 
will  be  remembered.  At  the  same  time  the  herds  which 
had  ranged  along  the  foot  of  the  Rockies  from  Canada 
south  to  the  Missouri  River  left  that  part  of  the  country 
never  to  return.  South  of  the  Missouri  to  the  Yellow- 
stone and  beyond,  in  all  Montana,  save  on  the  headwaters 
of  Milk  River,  the  Marias,  Teton,  and  along  Sun  River, 
and  into  western  Dakota,  the  buffalo  were,  however, 
apparently  as  plentiful  as  ever. 

335 


336  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

The  Piegans  had  intended  to  winter  in  the  vicinity 
of  Fort  Conrad  and  trade  with  us,  but  of  course  they 
were  obliged  to  change  their  plans  and  go  to  buffalo,  and 
we  had  to  accompany  them  to  get  any  trade  at  all.  We 
left  it  to  the  women  whether  they  would  remain  at  home 
or  accompany  us,  and  all  but  Nat-ah'-ki  elected  to  stay 
at  the  fort.  Her  prompt  decision  to  accompany  me  was 
exceedingly  pleasing,  for  I  had  felt  that  it  would  be  well- 
nigh  impossible  to  go  alone,  even  for  a  few  months;  that 
the  life  would  be  unendurable.  Yet  for  her  own  sake 
I  demurred:  "You  love  this  place,"  I  said  to  her. 
"You  can  be  comfortable  sitting  here  before  the  fire 
when  Cold  Maker  comes  down  from  the  North.  You 
had  better  remain." 

"Is  it  because  you  love  me  no  more,"  she  asked, 
"that  you  tell  me  this?"  And  when  I  replied  that  I 
was  thinking  only  of  her  comfort,  she  added:  "I  am 
no  white  woman,  to  be  housed  up,  and  waited  on.  It 
is  my  duty  to  go  with  you  and  do  the  cooking;  keep 
the  lodge  warm;  do  all  I  can  to  make  you  comfortable." 

"Oh!"  I  said,  "if  that  is  why  you  would  go,  just  be- 
cause you  think  you  must,  why,  remain  here.  I'll  live 
with  Weasel  Tail ;  his  wife  will  take  care  of  us." 

"How  you  can  use  words!"  she  exclaimed.  "Al- 
ways, always  you  search  around  with  them  and  make 
me  say  all  that  is  in  my  mind.  Know  then,  if  you  will, 
that  I  go  because  I  must  follow  my  heart;  you  have 
taken  it." 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  hoped  you  would  say;  but 
why  could  you  not  have  told  me  at  first  that  you  wanted 
to  go  because  you  cared  for  me?" 

"Know  this,"  she  replied,  "a  woman  does  not  like 
to  be  always  telling  her  man  that  she  loves  him;  she 
likes  to  think  it  and  to  keep  it  deep  down  in  her  heart, 


A  GAME  OF  FATE  337 

lest  he  tire  of  it.  That  would  be  terrible,  to  love  and 
have  your  love  cast  aside." 

Many  and  many  a  time  I  have  thought  of  that  talk 
by  the  evening  fire,  and  I  wonder,  I  wonder  now,  if  all 
women  are  that  way,  chary  of  expressing  their  inner- 
most thoughts.  Women,  I  take  it,  are  generally  past 
men's  understanding;  but  I  believe  that  I  knew  Nat- 
ah'-ki.  I  believe  I  knew  her. 

We  pulled  out,  Berry,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I,  with  a  couple 
of  four-horse  team  loads,  leaving  a  man  to  look  after 
the  fort  and  the  women.  Travelling  by  way  of  Fort 
Benton,  we  were  several  days  passing  the  mouth  of  the 
Marias.  Just  beyond  that  point  the  sight  of  buffalo 
on  all  sides  gladdened  our  eyes,  and  we  found  the  Piegan 
camp,  pitched  at  the  foot  of  the  Bear  Paws,  red  with 
meat,  littered  with  drying  hides.  Nat-ah'-ki's  mother 
was  on  hand  as  soon  as  we  came  to  a  stop,  and  the  two 
women  put  up  our  lodge  while  Berry  and  I  unharnessed 
and  cared  for  the  stock.  We  finally  turned  them  over 
to  a  boy  who  was  to  herd  for  us. 

Big  Lake's  shadow  had  some  time  since  departed  for 
the  Sandhills.  Little  Dog,  another  great  leader  and 
friend  of  the  whites,  had  been  dead  a  still  longer  time. 
White  Calf  was  now  the  head  chief  of  the  tribe,  and  after 
him,  Running  Crane,  Fast  Buffalo  Horse,  and  Three 
Suns  were  the  principal  men.  They  were  men.  Big- 
hearted,  brave,  kindly  men,  every  one  of  them;  ever 
ready  to  help  the  distressed  by  word  and  deed.  Our 
lodge  was  no  sooner  set  up  and  supper  under  way  than 
they  came  in  to  smoke  and  feast  with  us,  Nat-ah'-ki's 
mother  having  gone  around  to  invite  them.  Also  came 
Weasel  Tail  and  Talks-with-the-buffalo  and  Bear  Head 
and  other  friends.  The  talk  was  mainly  about  the 
disappearance  of  the  buffalo  in  the  North  and  West. 


338  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Some  thought  that  they  might  have  crossed  the  moun- 
tains; that  the  Nez  Perec's  or  some  other  tribe  of  the 
other  side  had  found  some  means  to  drive  or  decoy  them 
to  the  plains  of  the  Columbia.  Old  Red  Eagle,  the  great 
medicine-pipe  man,  declared  that  his  dream  had  reliably 
informed  him  about  the  matter:  "As  it  happened  be- 
fore in  the  long  ago,"  he  said,  "so  it  is  now.  Some  evil 
one  has  driven  them  into  a  great  cave  or  natural  corral 
in  the  mountains,  and  there  holds  them  in  his  hate  of 
us  to  whom  they  belong.  They  must  be  found  and 
released,  their  captor  killed.  Were  it  not  that  I  am 
blind,  I  would  undertake  to  do  it  myself.  Yes,  I  would 
start  to-morrow  and  keep  on,  and  on,  and  on,  until  I 
found  them." 

"It  may  be  that  your  dream  speaks  truth,"  said 
Three  Suns. 

"Have  patience;  in  summer  our  young  men  will  go 
out  to  war,  and  they  will  search  for  the  missing  herds." 

"Ai!  Ai!"  the  old  man  grumbled.  "  Have  patience ! 
Wait!  That  is  what  they  always  say.  It  wasn't  so  in 
my  day;  was  there  something  to  do,  we  did  it;  now  it  is 
put  off  for  fear  of  winter's  cold  or  summer's  heat." 

White  Calf  closed  the  subject  by  saying  that  even  if 
some  one  had  cached  the  northern  herds,  there  seemed 
to  be  a  plenty  left.  "And  they're  on  our  own  land,  too," 
he  added.  "If  any  of  the  other  side  people  come  over 
here  to  hunt,  we'll  see  that  they  never  return ;  some  of 
them  at  least." 

We  had  been  asked  to  trade,  even  before  we  un- 
hitched our  horses,  but  Berry  said  that  nothing  would 
be  done  in  that  line  until  evening.  The  feast  over,  and 
our  guests  departed,  people  began  to  flock  in.  One  for 
a  rifle;  another  for  cartridges;  others  for  tobacco,  or 
sugar,  coffee,  and  some,  alas!  for  spirits.  We  had 


A  GAME  OF  FATE  339 

nearly  a  wagon  load  of  alcohol,  which  we  diluted,  four 
to  one,  as  occasion  required.  Before  bedtime  we  sold 
over  five  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  goods,  wet  and  dry, 
and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  Berry  would  be  kept  pretty 
constantly  on  the  road  all  winter,  hauling  our  furs  to 
Fort  Benton  and  returning  with  fresh  supplies  of  mer- 
chandise. 

There  was  an  unusual  craze  for  gambling  that  winter. 
By  day,  the  men,  when  not  hunting,  played  the  wheel  and 
arrow  game,  rolling  a  small  bead-spoked  disk  down  a 
beaten  path  and  trying  to  throw,  or  cast  an  arrow  into 
it  as  it  whizzed  along.  At  night  the  camp  resounded 
with  the  solemn,  weird,  gambling  chant  from  many 
lodges.  There  the  players  sat,  the  two  sides  facing  each 
other,  and  played  the  "hide  the  bone  game,"  striking 
with  small  sticks  the  outer  rail  of  the  couches  in  time  to 
the  song.  Even  the  women  gambled,  and  many  were 
the  altercations  over  their  bets. 

In  a  lodge  near  us  lived  a  young  couple,  Fisher  and 
his  woman,  The  Lark.  They  were  devoted  to  each 
other,  and  were  always  together,  even  on  the  hunts. 
People  smiled  and  were  pleased  to  see  the  untiring  love 
they  had  for  each  other.  They  seldom  went  visiting, 
but  were  always  making  little  feasts  for  their  friends. 
Fisher  was  a  fine  hunter  and  kept  his  lodge  well  supplied 
with  meats  and  skins,  and  he  was  a  successful  warrior, 
too,  as  his  large  herd  of  horses  testified.  He  was  so  de- 
voted to  his  pretty  little  woman  that  he  never  went  out 
to  gamble  of  an  evening,  nor  invited  parties  to  gamble 
in  his  lodge;  they  played  too  long.  Feasts  were  well 
enough,  for  they  were  soon  over,  and  he  loved  the  quiet 
evenings,  just  he  and  his  woman  chatting  by  the  fire 
after  the  guests  had  gone.  Sometimes,  when  The  Lark 
was  chipping  a  robe,  and  it  was  too  cold  to  sit  outside 


340  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

and  talk  to  her  while  he  worked,  Fisher  strolled  away  to 
the  nearest  wheel  game  and  played  for  a  while.  He  was 
quite  an  expert  at  it  and  won  more  frequently  than  he 
lost.  But  one  evil  day  he  played  against  a  young  man 
named  Glancing  Arrow,  and  lost  ten  head  of  horses. 
I  was  busy  trading  in  our  lodge,  but  from  time  to  time 
I  got  news  of  the  game,  and  listened  to  the  comments 
on  it.  Glancing  Arrow,  it  seemed,  had  himself  wanted 
to  set  up  a  lodge  with  The  Lark.  Her  parents,  for 
reasons  unknown — he  was  a  rich  young  man — had 
rejected  his  gift  of  horses  and  given  her  to  the  Fisher,  who 
was  not  nearly  so  well  off.  This  had  pleased  every  one, 
for  the  Fisher  was  loved  by  every  one,  while  Glancing 
Arrow  was  a  surly,  cross-grained,  miserly  sort  of  a 
fellow,  and  had  not  a  single  close  friend.  He  had  never 
married,  and  once  had  been  heard  to  say  that  he  would 
yet  have  The  Lark  for  his  woman. 

"Fisher  is  crazy  to  gamble  with  him,"  said  one  of 
my  customers.  "To  gamble  with  the  best  player  in 
the  camp,  and  the  man  who  is  his  enemy.  Yes,  he  is 
certainly  crazy." 

There  was  more  news  next  morning.  Sore  over  his 
loss,  the  Fisher  had  sought  out  Glancing  Arrow,  played 
the  bone  game  with  him  nearly  all  night,  and  he  had  lost 
twelve  more  horses!  In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  The 
Lark  came  over  to  visit  Nat-ah'-ki,  and  I  was  called  into 
the  conference.  The  woman  was  crying  and  sorely  dis- 
tressed. "He  is  sleeping  now,"  she  said,  "but  when  he 
awakes  he  is  going  to  play  with  Glancing  Arrow  again. 
I  have  begged  him  not  to,  but  for  the  first  time  he  refuses 
to  listen  to  me.  All  he  will  say  is,  'I  shall  play;  I  shall 
win  back  my  horses.'  Just  think,  twenty-two  horses 
are  already  lost,  nearly  half  of  our  band,  and  to  that 
dog,  Glancing  Arrow!  Were  it  any  one  else  who  had 


A  GAME  OF  FATE.  341 

won  them,  I  would  not  care  so  much;  but  to  him!  to 
him ! ' '  And  her  sobs  checked  her  words  for  a  time. 

"Go  over  and  talk  with  him,"  she  continued.  "He 
thinks  much  of  you;  will  listen  to  your  words;  go  and 
talk  him  out  of  this  madness." 

I  walked  over  to  their  lodge  and  found  the  Fisher  still 
in  bed,  lying  propped  up  on  one  arm  and  staring  moodily 
at  the  fire.  "You  needn't  say  it,"  he  began,  before  I 
could  open  my  mouth.  " I  know  why  you  have  come  in; 
she  sent  you  to  ask  me  to  play  no  more,  but  I'm  not 
going  to  stop.  I  can't  stop  until  I  have  won  back  all 
that  I  have  lost." 

"But  look  here,"  I  put  in.  "You  may  lose  more  if 
you  keep  on,  perhaps  all  you  have,  for  I  hear  Glancing 
Arrow  is  the  most  skilful  of  all  the  players.  Just  think 
how  much  you  are  risking;  what  a  shame  it  would  be 
were  you  to  be  set  afoot,  no  horses  with  which  to  move 
camp,  not  even  one  for  your  woman  to  ride." 

"Oh!  that  could  not  happen,"  he  said  confidently. 
"I  could  not  lose  them  all.  No,  there  is  no  use  of  your 
talking.  I  must  play  again  with  him,  and  I  'm  sure  that 
I  will  win.  I  shall  pray.  I  shall  make  a  sacrifice.  I 
must  win." 

A  howling  southwest  wind  set  in  before  noon,  so  there 
was  no  gambling  with  the  disk  and  arrows.  The  other 
game  could  not  be  played  in  the  daytime,  according  to 
the  ancient  custom,  lest  bad  luck  befall  the  players.  The 
sun  had  not  long  set,  however,  before  they  began  again, 
the  Fisher  and  Glancing  Arrow,  in  the  lodge  of  Heavy 
Top.  A  big  crowd  gathered  there  to  witness  it,  and  to 
encourage  the  Fisher,  whom  every  one  loved  as  much  as 
his  opponent  was  despised.  The  Lark  came  over  to  our 
lodge  and  sat  with  Nat-ah'-ki,  who  tried  to  cheer  her 
up  with  encouraging  words,  and  stories  that  might  direct 


342  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

her  thoughts  from  her  trouble.  But  she  was  not  to  be 
amused  and  kept  saying  that  she  felt  that  something 
dreadful  was  going  to  happen.  Time  and  again  she 
went  out  and  stood  by  the  lodge  in  which  the  gambling 
was  going  on,  listening  and  returning  to  tell  us  how  the 
game  progressed.  "  He  has  lost  another  horse,"  she 
would  say;  "they  are  going  one  by  one."  Once  she 
reported  that  the  Fisher  had  won  one  back.  "But 
he'll  lose  it  in  the  next  game,"  she  concluded  despond- 
ently and  began  to  cry. 

"  Oh!  do  go  over  there  and  put  a  stop  to  it,"  Nat-ah'-ki 
entreated  me.  "Do  something,  say  something  to  end 
it." 

I  went,  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  quite  sure  that  I 
was  setting  out  on  a  useless  errand,  but  still  I  went. 
The  lodge  was  crowded,  but  room  was  made  and  I  found 
a  seat  well  to  the  back  of  it,  and  near  the  players.  When 
the  Fisher  saw  me,  he  frowned  and  shook  his  head,  as 
much  as  to  say:  "Leave  me  alone."  And,  indeed, 
before  that  crowd  I  felt  that  I  was  powerless;  that  I 
could  neither  entreat  nor  advise  him  to  stop  playing 
and  go  home. 

By  the  side  of  Glancing  Arrow  lay  a  little  heap  of 
small,  red-painted,  cylindrical  sticks,  used  for  markers, 
and  each  one  represented  a  horse  that  he  had  won.  I 
looked  over  in  front  of  his  opponent  and  counted  seven 
more  sticks.  The  Fisher  had,  then,  but  seven  horses 
left.  "We  will  play  for  two  head  this  time,"  he  said 
and  threw  two  sticks  out  on  the  ground  between  them.  The 
other  placed  a  like  number  beside  them,  and  the  Fisher 
took  the  bones,  one  red-painted,  the  other  with  black 
bands.  They  began  the  song,  the  onlookers  also  joining 
in  and  beating  time  on  the  couch  rail.  Manipulating 
the  little  bones,  the  Fisher  deftly  passed  them  from  one 


A  GAME  OF  FATE  343 

hand  to  the  other,  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  car- 
ried his  hands  within  the  robe  folded  across  his  lap,  while 
he  changed  them  there ;  then,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  song, 
he  suddenly  extended  both  fists  toward  his  adversary, 
lookinghim  steadilyinthe  eyes.  Raising  his  clenched  right 
hand,  forefinger  extended,  Glancing  Arrow  slapped  it 
down  into  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  the  forefinger  pointing 
at  the  left  fist.  The  Fisher  reluctantly  opened  it  and  ex- 
posed to  view  the  black-banded  bone.  He  had  lost, 
and  had  now  but  five  horses.  He  picked  up  the  markers, 
counted  and  recounted  them,  divided  them  into  parts 
of  two  and  three,  twos  and  one,  and  then  bunching  them, 
said:  "These  are  the  last.  I  will  play  you  for  the  five 
head." 

Glancing  Arrow  smiled;  a  cruel,  sinister  smile  it  was, 
and  his  evil  little  eyes  sparkled.  His  eyes  were  set  un- 
usually close  together  in  his  hatchet-like  face,  and  his 
large  nose  was  very  thin,  and  bowed  owl-beak-like  over 
his  thin  lips.  His  countenance  always  reminded  me 
of  the  picture  you  see  on  tins  of  deviled  ham.  He  made 
no  comment  on  this  raise  of  the  stakes,  but  quickly  laid 
out  his  five  markers,  and  picked  up  the  bones.  Again 
the  song  began,  and  swelling  out  his  bosom,  he  sang 
loudest  of  all,  crossed  his  hands  back  and  forth,  up  and 
down,  forefingers  crookedly  extended.  He  rubbed  them 
together,  opened  them  and  exposed  the  black-banded 
bone,  now  in  one  palm,  now  in  the  other,  changing  it  so 
quickly  that  the  observer  was  bewildered,  or  made  cer- 
tain that  the  bone  still  remained  in  the  hand  where  he 
had  last  seen  it,  only  to  find  that  it  had  in  some  way 
been  slipped  into  the  other  one.  It  was  the  latter  ruse 
which  deceived  Fisher,  for  the  instant  the  song  ceased 
he  pointed  to  the  player's  right  hand,  and  the  losing 
bone  was  tossed  to  him  from  it. 


344  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  have  still  a  rifle,  a  lodge,  a  saddle, 
war-clothes,  blankets,  and  robes.  I  will  bet  them  all 
against  ten  head  of  horses." 

"Ten  it  is,"  Glancing  Arrow  agreed,  laying  out  ten 
markers,  and  again  manipulating  the  bones  as  the  song 
was  renewed.  But  this  time  the  song  was  not  so  strong. 
Some,  perhaps  from  the  acute  interest  they  had  in  this 
last  unusual  stake,  or  because  they  wished  to  show 
their  disapproval,  did  not  sing  at  all,  and  those  who  did 
were  half-hearted  about  it.  And,  as  usual,  Glancing 
Arrow  won,  won  and  laughed  wickedly,  loudly.  The 
Fisher  shivered  as  if  from  cold,  drew  his  robe  about 
him,  preparing  to  leave.  "Come  over  to-morrow,"  he 
said,  "and  I  will  turn  it  all  over  to  you — the  horses  and 
everything  else." 

"Wait!"  Glancing  Arrow  exclaimed,  as  he  arose. 
"I  will  give  you  one  more  chance;  I  will  give  you  the 
chance  to  get  back  everything  you  have  lost ;  I  will  bet 
everything  I  have  won  from  you  against  your  woman." 

Every  one  present  clapped  his  hand  to  his  mouth  in 
surprise,  and  there  was  exclamations,  deep  and  heart- 
felt, of  horror  and  disapproval.  "The  dog!"  one  said. 
"Knock  him  on  the  head!"  cried  another.  "Throw 
him  out!"  others  exclaimed. 

But  Glancing  Arrow  did  not  heed  them  he  sat  non- 
chalantly bunching  and  counting  his  markers,  the  cruel 
smile  still  on  his  lips,  the  evil  fire  in  his  beady  eyes. 
The  Fisher  shivered  again,  arose  and  passed  around  to  the 
doorway.  There  he  stopped  and  stood  like  one  in  a 
trance.  Could  it  be,  I  wondered,  that  he  was  even  con- 
sidering the  offer?  I  arose,  too,  and  went  over  to  him. 
"Come  home  with  me,"  I  said.  "Come  to  my  lodge; 
your  woman  awaits  you  there." 

"Yes,  go,  go!"  said  others.     "Go  home  with  him." 


A  GAME  OF  FATE  345 

But  he  shook  my  hand  from  his  shoulder  and  quickly 
returned  to  his  seat.  "  Begin ! "  he  cried  to  his  adversary. 
"We  will  play.  We  will  play  for  her" — and  he  added 
under  his  breath,  "for  her  and  another  thing." 

Perhaps  Glancing  Arrow  did  not  hear  the  latter  part 
of  the  sentence,  or,  if  he  did,  he  made  no  sign.  He 
picked  up  the  bones  and  began  to  sing,  but  no  one  joined 
in,  not  even  the  Fisher,  and  looking  at  the  rows  of  sullen, 
scowling  faces  staring  at  him,  he  faltered,  but  kept  on 
with  it  in  a  manner  to  the  end,  and  extended  his  closed 
hands  before  him.  There  ensued  a  moment  of  tense 
silence.  Breasts  heaved  and  eyes  flashed,  and  if  wishes 
could  have  killed,  Glancing  Arrow  had  died  where  he 
sat.  I  myself,  in  spite  of  my  raising,  felt  an  almost  un- 
controllable desire  to  spring  upon  him,  bury  my  fingers  in 
his  throat  and  choke  him  to  death.  Some,  indeed,  half 
rose  from  their  seats,  and  I  saw  several  hands  firmly 
gripping  a  knife  handle. 

The  Fisher  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eyes  so  long  and 
with  such  an  agonising  expression,  that  the  suspense  be- 
came almost  unbearable.  Twice  he  raised  his  hand  to 
denote  his  choice,  and  twice  drew  back.  But  at  last  he 
pointed  to  the  left  fist,  and  received — the  unmarked 
bone! 

Some  of  the  onlookers  sprang  up;  there  were  cries  of 
"Kill  him!  Kill  him!"  Knives  were  drawn;  Heavy 
Top  reached  for  his  carbine.  But  the  Fisher  motioned 
them  back  to  their  places,  and  there  was  that  in  his  ex- 
pression, something  so  quiet,  and  ominous,  and  deter- 
mined, that  they  obeyed  him.  "Come  to-morrow," 
he  told  the  winner,  "and  you  shall  have  all  that  you 
have  won." 

"No,"  said  Glancing  Arrow,  doggedly,  "not  to- 
morrow. I  will  take  the  lodge  and  the  robes  and 


346  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  blankets  and  the  woman  to-night;  the  horses  to- 
morrow." 

"Come  on  then,  it  shall  be  as  you  say." 

And  somehow  we  let  them  pass  out  into  the  darkness. 
No  one  followed,  nor  spoke.  We  all  felt  that  something 
was  going  to  happen.  But  some  of  those  who  had  been 
standing  outside  listening,  did  follow,  and  there  were 
several  witnesses  of  the  end  of  it  all.  The  Lark  had  been 
standing  behind  the  lodge,  had  heard  herself  put  up  for 
the  last  stake ;  heard  the  demand  of  the  winner,  and  then 
she  had  fled  homeward.  A  little  later,  almost  as  swiftly 
went  thither  the  Fisher,  followed  by  the  man  who  had 
won  his  all.  They  went  inside,  a  man  or  two  entering 
in  behind  them. 

"There  she  is!"  the  Fisher  exclaimed,  pointing  to  the 
couch  where  the  woman  lay  completely  covered  with  a 
buffalo  robe.  "There  she  is,"  he  continued,  "but  you 
shall  never  touch  her.  I  am  going  to  kill  you,  to  make 
a  sacrifice  of  you  here  in  her  presence." 

His  words  and  the  terrible  expression  of  his  face  so 
paralysed  Glancing  Arrow  that  he  did  not  try  to  defend 
himself,  but  sank  to  the  ground,  crying,  "Have  pity, 
pity  me!"  even  before  the  Fisher  sprang  upon  him  and 
thrust  a  knife  again  and  again,  deep  into  his  neck  and 
bosom. 

We  sitting  in  the  lodge  awaiting  we  knew  not  what, 
heard  the  dying  man's  screams  and  rushed  out,  tearing 
the  lodge  skin  loose  from  its  pegs  as  we  went.  When 
I  had  reached  the  scene,  it  was  all  over.  Glancing  Arrow 
lay  dead  beside  the  fire  and  the  Fisher  stood  over  him 
looking  down  at  his  work,  a  pleased,  childish  expression 
on  his  face. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,"  he  said  softly,  dreamily,  "I 
remember  now,  he  wanted  her;  he  has  always  wanted 


A  GAME  OF  FATE  347 

her,  my  little  woman.  And  I  have  killed  him.  See, 
little  woman,  he  is  dead,  completely  dead;  you  need 
fear  no  more  to  go  to  the  river  for  water,  or  to  the  timber 
for  fuel.  Get  up  and  see  for  yourself;  he  is  surely 
dead." 

But  The  Lark  did  not  move,  and,  bending  over,  he 
drew  back  her  covering,  and  gave  a  heartrending,  gasping 
cry.  She,  too,  was  dead.  Covering  herself  with  her 
robe,  she  had  grasped  a  knife  in  both  hands  and  pressed 
it  straight  down  into  her  heart.  Her  hands  still  firmly 
held  the  hilt,  and  if  ever  a  dead  face  expressed  anguish 
and  horror,  hers  surely  did.  The  sight  seemed  to  bring 
the  Fisher  to  his  senses — I  doubt  not  that  he  had  been 
demented  for  several  days.  "It  is  my  fault,"  he  said. 
"My  fault,  my  fault!  But  you  shall  not  go  alone.  I 
am  with  you  yet." 

And  before  any  of  us  could  interfere,  he  plunged  the 
knife  he  still  held  into  his  own  bosom,  and  fell  over 
beside  her,  the  life-blood  streaming  from  his  mouth. 
Oh!  it  was  a  terrible  sight,  one  that  often  returns  to  me 
in  my  dreams,  and  I  awake,  shivering  and  bathed  in 
perspiration.  We  men  fled ;  there  was  nothing  we  could 
do.  Women  came  and  prepared  the  bodies  for  burial, 
and  in  the  morning  they  were  taken  away  and  lashed  in 
their  aerial  sepulchres.  Then  we  moved  away  from  the 
place,  eastward  to  the  next  little  creek.  There  was  no 
gambling  thereafter  for  a  very  long  time,  the  whole  camp 
went  into  mourning,  as  it  were,  for  the  two  young  lives 
we  missed.  Fortunately,  or  unfortunately,  as  different 
persons  may  view  it,  the  Blackfoot  language  is  exceed- 
ingly poor  in  words  for  cursing;  but  such  as  it  contains 
we  used  often  to  execrate  the  memory  of  Glancing 
Arrow. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

TRADE,  HUNT,  AND  WAR  PARTY 

OUR  trade  flourished.  Berry  was  almost  constantly 
on  the  road,  so  I  had  few  opportunities  to  do  any 
hunting.  There  were  days  when  I  saw  a  band  of  buffalo 
'loping  swiftly  over  the  distant  plain  pursued  by  the 
hunters,  or  when  some  friend  came  into  our  lodge  and 
told  of  an  exciting  chase — I  found  camp  life  irksome  at 
such  times,  and  longed  to  be  able  to  go  and  come  as  I 
pleased. 

"To-morrow  you  shall  be  trader,"  I  said  to  Nat-ah'-ki 
one  evening,  "and  I  will  go  hunting.  I  must  have  a 
ride.  I  am  getting  weak  sitting  here  in  the  lodge  day 
after  day." 

"You  shall  go,"  she  said.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
long  ago  ?  I  can  trade  as  well  as  you  can.  I  know  just 
how  much  to  give  for  everything.  But  I  will  not  put 
my  thumb  in  the  cup  when  I  measure  out  sugar  or  coffee 
or  tea." 

"The  cup  has  no  handle,"  I  interposed. 

"But  there  are  other  cups  of  the  very  same  size  with 
handles.  You  and  Berry  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
selves, to  so  cheat  these  poor  people.  Now,  here  is  the 
one" — picking  up  a  new  tin  one  that  Berry  had  just 
brought  from  the  Fort.  "This  is  the  one  I  shall  use. 

See,  it  has  a  strong  handle  and — and" she  turned  it 

over  and  over,  examining  inside  and  outside.  "Why, 
what  a  strangely  made  cup;  it  has  two  bottoms;  it  will 

348 


TRADE,  HUNT,  AND  WAR  PARTY        349 

hold  only  a  little  more  than  half  as  much  as  a  real  cup. 
Oh,  what  rascals  you  traders  are!" 

"  Wait ! "  I  exclaimed, ' '  you  do  not  understand.  There 
is  another  trader  in  this  camp.  He  gives  four  cups  of 
sugar  for  a  wolf  skin;  with  this  one  we  have  had  made 
we  will  give  seven  cupfuls  of  sugar,  or  four  of  coffee,  or 
five  of  tea.  The  people  will  get  just  as  much  for  a  skin 
or  robe  as  they  did  before,  but  the  other  trader  has  no 
false  cup ;  he  cannot  give  as  many  real  cupfuls ;  we  will 
drive  him  out  of  here  and  get  all  of  the  trade." 

And  that  is  just  what  we  did.  As  I  have  remarked 
before,  Berry  was  the  man  to  get  trade;  no  one  could 
successfully  compete  with  him. 

I  went  hunting  in  the  morning  as  I  had  planned. 
There  were  six  of  us,  including  Big  Plume  and  his  nephew, 
a  very  bright,  handsome,  likeable  young  man  named 
Moccasin.  There  were  eight  or  ten  inches  of  snow  on 
the  ground  and  the  weather  was  cold.  Thick,  low  clouds 
drifting  southward  obscured  the  sun,  and  snow  fell 
intermittently,  at  times  so  fast  that  we  could  not  see 
objects  a  hundred  yards  away.  We  rode  eastward  for 
four  or  five  miles,  before  we  saw  anything  save  a  few 
scattering  bulls,  and  then  a  lull  in  the  storm  permitted 
a  temporary  view  of  a  large  scope  of  country.  A  half 
dozen  bands  of  buffalo  were  in  sight,  one  of  several 
hundred  head  not  half  a  mile  farther  on  and  across  a  wide 
coulee,  a  branch  of  which  extended  to  where  we  were. 
We  sat  very  still  on  our  horses  until  another  flurry  of 
snow  came  down  and  blotted  out  the  landscape,  when 
we  rode  into  the  side  coulee,  down  it  and  across  the  large 
one,  and  climbed  the  hill  on  the  other  side.  When  we 
topped  the  rise  we  were  right  in  the  herd,  and  then  it  was 
every  man  for  himself.  It  was  all  very  misty  and  un- 
certain chasing  the  white-covered  creatures  in  the  snow- 


350  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

storm,  and  half-blinded  by  the  stinging  clouds  of  snow 
their  sharp  hoofs  threw  into  our  eyes.  I  trusted  to  luck 
to  ride  safely  among  the  hidden  prairie  dog  and  badger 
holes,  and  to  bring  down  the  quarry  when  I  fired.  The 
muffled  reports  of  my  companions'  rifles  sounded  very 
far  off,  my  own  seemed  more  like  the  discharge  of  a  toy 
pistol  than  anything  else,  yet  before  I  had  emptied  the 
magazine  I  saw  three  different  victims  stop,  and  stagger, 
and  fall,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  killed  my  share  of  the  game, 
and  brought  my  excited  horse  to  a  stop.  The  others  did 
even  better  than  I,  and  we  were  several  hours  skinning 
our  kill  and  preparing  the  meat  for  packing.  Not  that 
we  intended  to  do  that;  the  hunters'  women  would 
come  for  it  the  next  day,  and  Big  Plume  was  to  have  my 
share  taken  in  for  one  of  the  hides  and  part  of  the  meat. 

It  was  all  of  2  o'clock  when  we  started  homeward, 
after  tying  to  our  saddles  the  tongues  and  other  choice 
parts  of  the  buffalo.  The  wind  had  veered  to  west 
northwest  and  was  blowing  harder,  driving  the  snow  in 
clouds  before  it.  We  had  not  progressed  more  than  a 
mile,  shielding  our  faces  with  our  hands  or  blankets,  and 
trusting  to  our  horses  to  find  the  back  trail,  when  some- 
one cried  out:  "A  war  party  ahead!  Look!  See  them 
run!"  And  sure  enough,  there  they  were,  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  distant,  five  men  running  as  fast  as  they 
could  for  the  shelter  of  a  nearby  coulee.  Moccasin  was 
ahead  of  us  and  he  put  the  whip  to  his  horse  as  soon  as 
he  sighted  them,  regardless  of  his  uncle's  cries  to  wait  and 
be  cautious.  Long  before  we  could  overtake  him  he 
had  charged  after  them,  firing  his  carbine  rapidly,  and 
we  saw  one  of  them  fall.  They,  too,  fired  at  him,  and 
we  saw  that  they  carried  muzzle-loaders.  He  was  now 
almost  on  top  of  the  four  fleeing  men  when  the  one  who 
had  fallen  rose  up  as  he  was  passing  and  discharged  a 


TRADE,  HUNT,  AND  WAR  PARTY        351 

pistol  at  him,  and  doubling  over  in  the  saddle  he  hung 
on  for  a  moment,  then  fell  limply  to  the  ground,  his  horse 
turning  and  running  wildly  back  to  us. 

Big  Plume  hurried  over  to  where  he  lay  and  dismount- 
ing beside  him,  raised  him  up  in  his  arms.  The  rest  of 
us  made  short  work  of  the  war  party.  One  or  two  of 
them  succeeded  in  reloading  their  guns  and  firing  at  us, 
but  they  did  no  damage  and  fell  one  after  another,  rid- 
dled with  bullets  from  our  Henry  and  Winchester  re- 
peaters. They  were  Assiniboins,  of  course,  sneaking 
around  in  the  cold  and  snow  of  winter  as  usual,  and  they 
had  met  their  just  deserts.  My  Piegan  companions  were 
for  once  quiet  over  their  success,  not  even  letting  out  a 
single  shout  of  victory.  They  felt  too  badly  over  the 
fall  of  Moccasin,  and  quickly  scalping  and  taking  the 
weapons  of  the  dead,  they  gathered  around  him  in  mute 
sympathy.  It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  he  had  made 
his  last  run,  fired  his  last  shot.  Cold  as  it  was,  beads  of 
perspiration  gathered  on  his  pale  face,  and  he  writhed 
in  pain.  He  had  been  shot  in  the  abdomen.  His 
horse  had  been  caught  and  stood  with  the  others  nearby. 
"Help  me  to  get  into  the  saddle,"  he  said  faintly.  "I 
must  get  home.  I  want  to  see  my  woman  and  my  little 
girl  before  I  die.  I  must  see  them.  Help  me  up." 

Faithful  old  Big  Plume  was  crying.  He  had  raised 
the  young  man  and  been  father  to  him.  "  I  can  do  noth- 
ing," he  sobbed,  "nothing.  Some  of  you  lift  him  up. 
Someone  ride  ahead  and  tell  them  what  has  happened." 

"No,"  the  wounded  man  said,  "no  one  shall  go  first; 
they  will  learn  about  it  soon  enough.  I  am  badly  hurt, 
I  know,  but  I  am  going  to  live  to  reach  my  lodge." 

We  got  him  up  into  the  saddle  and  one,  mounting 
behind,  supported  his  drooping  form.  Another  led 
the  horse,  and  thus  we  resumed  our  homeward  way. 


353  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Twice  he  fainted,  and  we  stopped  in  a  sheltered  coulde, 
spread  blankets  and  laid  him  on  them,  bathed  his  brow 
with  snow  and  fed  him  snow  when  he  revived.  He  was 
thirsty,  calling  for  water,  water,  continually.  The  way 
seemed  terribly  long  and  coming  night  added  to  the 
general  gloom  of  our  party.  We  had  started  out  so 
happily,  had  been  so  successful,  and  then  in  an  instant 
death  had  come  among  us,  our  swift  home-going  had 
been  changed  into  a  funeral  trail,  a  life  full  of  happiness 
and  love  and  contentment  was  going  out.  That  was  the 
way  of  it  on  the  plains;  the  unexpected  was  always 
happening. 

We  came  to  the  edge  of  camp  at  dusk  and  filed  in  past 
the  lodges.  People  gathered  and  inquired  what  had 
happened.  We  told  them,  and  some  ran  on  ahead  spread- 
ing the  news.  Before  we  came,  Moccasin's  wife  ran  from 
her  lodge  to  meet  us,  sobbing  heart-brokenly,  cautioning 
us  to  be  careful  and  carry  him  in  as  easily  as  possible. 
We  laid  him  on  his  couch,  and  she  leaned  over  and  held 
him  to  her  bosom,  kissed  him  fervently,  and  called  on  the 
Sun  to  let  him  live.  I  went  out  and  to  my  own  lodge. 
Nat-ah'-ki  met  me  at  the  doorway.  She,  too,  was  crying, 
for  Moccasin  was  a  distant  relative.  She  looked  at  me 
anxiously  to  see  if  there  was  any  blood  on  my  clothes, 
and  there  was  plenty  of  it,  buffalo  blood. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  "and  they  have  shot  you,  too? 
Show  me,  quick,  where  is  it?  Let  me  call  for  help." 

"It  is  nothing,"  I  told  her,  "nothing  but  blood  from 
my  kill.  I  am  as  well  as  ever." 

"But  you  might  have  been  killed,"  she  cried.  "You 
might  have  been  killed.  You  are  not  going  hunting  any 
more  in  this  country  of  war  parties.  You  have  no 
business  to  hunt.  You  are  a  trader,  and  you  are 
going  to  stay  right  here  with  me  where  it  is  safe  to  live." 


TRADE,  HUNT,  AND  WAR  PARTY         353 

Moccasin,  poor  fellow,  died  in  less  than  an  hour  after 
we  got  him  home,  and  the  wailing  of  wife  and  relatives 
was  heart-breaking  to  hear.  It  was  a  sad  time  for  us 
all,  and  made  us  think  of  the  uncertainty  of  life.  Three 
of  the  kindliest  and  best  loved  ones  in  the  whole  tribe 
had  gone  from  us  in  so  short  a  time,  in  such  an  unlooked- 
for  manner. 

We  did  not  get  all  of  the  robes  that  were  tanned  that 
winter;  whisky  traders  occasionally  visited  the  camp 
and  by  giving  large  quantities  of  very  bad  liquor,  bar- 
tered for  some  of  them.  The  Piegans  also  made  frequent 
trips  to  Fort  Benton  to  trade.  But  we  did  get  2,200 
robes, to  say  nothing  of  deer,  elk,  beaver,  and  other  pelts, 
and  were  well  satisfied.  About  April  i  we  were  home 
again  at  Fort  Conrad,  and  Berry  began  at  once  to  tear 
up  the  big  bottom  with  his  bull  teams.  Of  nights  he 
used  up  many  a  sheet  of  paper  figuring  out  the  profit  in 
raising  oats,  sixty  bushels  to  the  acre,  and  in  the  pork- 
raising  industry,  sixteen  pigs  to  the  sow  twice  a  year — 
or  maybe  thrice,  I  forget  which;  anyhow,  it  all  seemed 
very  plain,  and  sure,  on  paper.  More  plows  were  bought, 
some  Berkshire  pigs  were  ordered  from  the  States,  a 
ditch  was  dug  to  tap  the  Dry  Fork  of  the  Marias.  Yes, 
we  were  going  to  be  farmers  for  sure. 

Away  down  at  the  end  of  the  bottom,  where  the  Dry 
Fork  and  the  Marias  met,  the  women  planted  their  little 
garden  and  erected  a  brush-roofed  summer  house,  under 
which  they  would  sit  in  the  heat  of  the  day  and  watch 
their  corn  and  pumpkins  grow,  morning  and  evening 
faithfully  irrigating  them  with  buckets  of  water.  I 
passed  much  time  with  them  there,  or  with  rude  pole  and 
line  angled  for  catfish  and  goldeyes  in  the  deep  hole 
nearby,  the  while  listening  to  their  quaint  songs  and  still 
quainter  tales  of  the  long  ago.  Time  and  again  Nat-ah'-ki 


354  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

would  say:     "What  happiness;    what  peace.     Let  us 
pray  that  it  may  last." 

The  Piegans  drifted  westward  from  the  Bear's  Paw 
country  and  most  of  them  returned  to  their  agency, 
which  was  now  located  on  Badger  Creek,  a  tributary  of 
the  Marias,  about  fifty  miles  above  the  Fort.  Some, 
however,  encamped  across  the  river  from  us  and  hunted 
antelope  and  deer,  killing  an  occasional  buffalo  bull. 
Reports  from  the  Agency  told  of  hard  times  up  there. 
The  agent  was  said  to  be  starving  the  people,  and  they 
were  already  talking  of  moving  back  to  the  buffalo 
country. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
NAT-AH'-KI'S  RIDB 

WEEK  after  week,  the  Piegans  waited  for  the  buf- 
falo to  reappear  on  the  plains  of  their  reservation. 
With  the  hot  weather  they  thought  that  some  of  the  herds 
to  the  eastward  would  stray  up  to  the  cooler  altitude,  and 
they  still  believed  that  somewhere  in  the  unknown  fast- 
nesses of  the  Rockies  hordes  of  the  animals  had  been 
cached,  and  that  in  some  way  they  would  be  able  to 
return  to  the  open  country.  In  the  meantime  the 
hunters  scoured  the  foothills  in  quest  of  deer  and  elk  and 
antelope,  finding  some,  it  is  true,  but  barely  enough  to 
keep  their  families  from  actual  starvation. 

In  our  ranching  work  we  were  no  more  successful  than 
the  hunters  in  the  chase.  There  were  no  rains,  with  the 
result  that  the  Dry  Fork  remained  dry,  and  our  irrigating 
ditch  was  useless.  Also,  the  thoroughbred  Berkshires 
we  procured  from  the  States  brought  with  them,  or  con- 
tracted en  route  some  disease,  and  all  died  except  the 
boar.  He  finally  succumbed,  after  feasting  upon  the 
month's-old  carcass  of  a  strychnined  wolf.  All  this  was 
very  annoying  to  Berry,  but  I  must  confess  that  I  did  not 
feel  very  badly  about  it.  I  was  never  cut  out  for  a  tiller 
of  the  soil,  and  I  hoped  that  this  experience  would  prove 
to  him  that  he  was  not,  either.  We  had  a  few  cattle. 
They  roamed  the  bottoms  and  the  nearby  hills,  waxed 
fat  on  the  short  grama-grass  and  increased.  Who 
would  plough,  and  sow,  ana  reap,  if  it  rained,  in 

355 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


preference  to  sitting  in  the  shade  and  watching  a  bunch 
of  cattle  grow?  Not  I. 

We  did  sit  in  the  shade,  the  women  and  I.  True, 
there  was  cooking  to  be  done,  but  it  was  a  matter  of  a 
few  moments  to  boil  some  meat,  bake  a  pan  of  biscuit, 
and  heat  the  contents  of  a  couple  of  tins.  We  did  not 
go  in  for  those  things  which  require  hours  of  preparation, 
and  make  women  red  in  the  face  from  heat  and  loss  of 
temper.  Washing?  We  wore  soft  things  and  none 
too  many  of  them.  There  wasn't  an  ounce  of  starch  in 
the  land,  thank  heaven!  Long  bull  trains  trekked  down 
into  the  bottom,  and  I  sold  the  dust-powdered  bull- 
whackers  beer,  and  buckskins,  and  tobacco.  I  bought 
deer  and  antelope  skins  from  the  Indians,  but  mostly 
I  sat.  in  the  shade. 

In  June  the  river  was  bank-full  from  the  melting  snow 
of  the  Rockies,  and  our  cable  ferry  was  used  by  all 
travellers.  One  day  I  had  to  cross  a  bull  train,  and  for 
the  first  trip  seven  yokes  of  bulls  were  driven  on  board, 
all  the  yokes  attached  to  the  long  lead-chain  with  which 
they  pulled  the  wagons.  I  took  the  wheel,  the  ropes 
were  cast  off,  and  we  left  the  shore,  the  bull-whacker  of 
the  team  standing  beside  me.  He  was  a  French  Creole, 
a  voluble,  excitable,  nervous  man,  as  are  most  of  his 
kind.  When  midway  in  the  stream,  where  the 
water  was  deepest  and  swiftest,  the  lead  yoke  of  bulls 
backed  into  the  next  one,  they  into  the  one  behind  them, 
and  so  on  until  they  were  all  huddled  to  the  rear  of  the 
boat,  and  their  great  weight  threw  the  bow  and 
upper  side  of  the  craft  clear  above  the  surface  of 
the  stream.  Water  poured  into  the  hold  through  the 
submerged  deck,  and  the  increasing  weight  of  it  tilted 
the  bow  higher  and  higher  until  the  bulls  could  no  longer 
retain  their  footing  and  they  began  to  slide  off. 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  RIDE  357 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!"  the  bull-whacker  cried,  "it  is  that 
they  will  drown;  that  they  will  in  the  chain  entangle. 
Return,  m'sieur,  return  to  the  shore!" 

But  I  could  do  nothing,  the  boat  would  neither  go 
forward  nor  back,  and  kept  settling  deeper  in  the  water, 
which  gurgled  ominously  under  us.  The  bulls,  finally 
slid  off  en  masse,  and  how  they  did  roll  and  snort  and 
paw,  often  entirely  submerged,  but,  strange  to  say,  they 
drifted  down  to  a  bar  and  waded  safely  out  in  spite  of 
the  dangerous  chain  to  which  their  yokes  were  attached. 
Freed  from  their  weight  the  ferry  surged  the  other  way, 
dived  into  the  stream  as  it  were,  and  the  strong  current 
bore  it  down. 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!  Oh  sacre"!"  the  Frenchman  cried. 
"Save  me,  m'sieur.  I  cannot  swim." 

And  he  ran  toward  me  with  outstretched  arms.  I 
sprang  backward  to  avoid  his  threatened  embrace  and 
fell,  and  the  water  sweeping  over  the  deck  carried  me 
with  it.  I  didn't  mind  that  much,  for  I  knew  that  the 
current  would  take  me  to  the  bar  where  the  bulls  had 
landed.  I  looked  back  at  the  Frenchman.  The  boat 
was  now  deep  under  the  water  and  he  had  perched  on  the 
centre  hog-chain  post,  which  was  itself  only  a  couple  of 
feet  above  the  surface.  I  can  see  him  to  this  day,  sitting 
there  on  top  of  the  post,  his  eyes  saucer-like  with  terror, 
the  ends  of  his  fierce  moustache  pointing  to  heaven,  and 
I  can  still  hear  him,  as  he  repeatedly  crossed  himself, 
alternately  praying  and  cursing  and  calling  on  his  com- 
rades ashore  to  save  him  from  the  turbid  flood.  He 
was  such  a  funny  sight  that  I  laughed  so  I  could  hardly 
keep  my  head  above  the  water. 

"Hang  on,  Frenchy!"  cried  the  wagon  boss  and 
others.  "Just  hang  on,  you'll  come  out  all  right." 

He  shook  his  fist  at  them.    "H*  I  am  sink.    H'  I  am 


3$8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

drown.  You  maudit  whack  eet  de  bull,"  he  answered, 
"an*  you  tell  me  hang  on.  Oh,  sacre"!  Oh,  miserel 
Oh,  mon  Dieu!" 

I  doubt  not  that  he  might  have  let  go  and  sunk  had 
the  boat  settled  any  deeper  in  the  water,  but  just  then 
the  cable  parted  and  it  rose  so  that  the  deck  was 
barely  awash,  and  drifted  along  after  me.  Down  jumped 
Frenchy  and  pirouetted  around  on  its  slippery  surface, 
and  shouted  and  laughed  for  joy,  snapped  his  fingers  at 
the  men  who  had  jeered  him,  and  cried:  "Adieu,  adieu, 
messieurs,  me,  I  am  bound  for  St.  Louis,  an'  my  sweet- 
heart." The  boat  drifted  ashore  not  far  below,  and  we 
had  no  difficulty  in  towing  it  back  and  repairing  the 
cable.  Frenchy,  however,  would  not  cross  with  his 
bulls,  but  went  over  with  a  load  of  the  wagons,  and  he 
took  a  plank  with  him,  to  use  as  a  float  in  case  of  accident. 

In  the  hot  summer  nights  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  slept  out  on 
the  edge  of  a  high-cut  bank  near  the  river.  Oh,  those 
white,  moonlit,  perfect  nights!  They  were  so  perfect, 
so  peaceful,  that  the  beauty  and  wonder  of  it  all  kept  us 
awake  long  after  we  should  have  been  sleeping  soundly. 
An  owl  hooted.  "  'Tis  the  ghost  of  some  unfortunate 
one,"  she  would  say.  "For  some  wrong  he  did,  his 
shadow  became  an  owl,  and  he  must  long  suffer,  afraid 
of  the  Sun,  mournfully  crying  of  nights,  before  he  can 
at  last  join  the  other  shadows  of  our  people  who  have 
gone  on  to  the  Sandhills." 

A  wolf  howled.  "Oh,  brother,  why  so  sad?  It 
seems  as  if  they  were  always  crying  for  something  that 
has  been  taken  from  them,  or  that  they  have  lost.  Will 
they  ever  find  it,  I  wonder?" 

The  river  now  moved  and  gurgled  under  the  bank,  and 
roared  hollow  down  the  rapid  in  the  bend  below.  A 
beaver,  or  perchance  a  big  fish,  splashed  its  silvery  sur- 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  RIDE  359 

face,  and  she  would  nestle  closer,  shiver  perhaps.  "  "Pis 
the  people  of  the  deep  waters,"  she  would  whisper. 
"Why,  I  wonder,  was  it  given  them  to  live  away  down 
in  the  deep,  dark,  cold  places,  instead  of  on  the  land  and 
in  the  bright  sunlight?  Do  you  think  they  are  happy 
and  warm  and  content  as  we  are?" 

Such  questions  I  answered  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
"The  goat  loves  the  high,  cold,  bare  cliffs  of  the  moun- 
tains," I  said  to  her,  "the  antelope  the  warm,  low,  bare 
plains.  No  doubt  the  people  of  the  river  love  its  depths, 
or  they  would  live  on  the  land  as  we  do." 

One  night,  after  listening  to  the  hooting  of  a  big  owl 
up  on  the  island,  she  said;  "Just  think  how  unhappy 
that  shadow  is,  and  even  were  it  permitted  to  go  on  to 
the  Sandhills,  still  it  would  be  unhappy.  They  are 
all  unhappy  there,  our  people  who  have  gone  from  us, 
living  their  shadow,  make-believe  lives.  That  is  why  I 
do  not  want  to  die.  It  is  so  cold  and  cheerless  there, 
and  your  shadow  could  not  be  with  me.  White  men's 
shadows  cannot  enter  the  home  of  the  Blackfeet  dead." 

I  said  nothing,  and  after  a  little  she  continued:  "Tell 
me,  can  it  really  be  true  that  which  the  Black  Robes  say 
about  the  next  life,  that  the  good  people,  Indian  and 
white,  will  go  away  up  in  the  sky  then  and  live  happily 
with  World  Maker  forever?" 

What  could  I  do  but  encourage  her?  "What  they 
say,"  I  replied,  "is  written  in  their  ancient  book.  They 
believe  it.  Yes,  they  do  believe  it,  and  I  do,  too.  I  am 
glad  to  believe  it.  Even  the  Indian  may  enter  there; 
we  can  still  be  together  after  this  life  is  over." 

Still  I  had  no  comment  to  make,  but  I  thought  of 
those  lines  of  the  old  tent-maker: 

"And  many  a  knot  unravelled  by  the  way, 
But  not  the  knot  of  human  fate." 


360  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

But  what  a  beautiful  thing  it  is  to  have  faith.  He 
who  has  it — that  simple,  unquestioning,  unreasoning 
faith  of  our  ancestors;  why,  his  heaven  has  begun  right 
here  on  earth. 

As  the  summer  wore  on  the  question  of  food  became 
a  very  serious  one  to  the  Piegans,  and  we  heard  that  the 
more  northern  tribes  of  the  Blackfeet  were  also  suffering. 
The  Piegan  agent,  in  his  annual  report  to  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Interior,  had  deplored  the  barbarism  of  his 
charges,  their  heathenish  worship  of  strange  gods,  but 
he  told  nothing  of  their  physical  needs.  "I  have  noth- 
ing for  you,"  he  said  to  the  chiefs.  "Take  your  people 
to  buffalo  and  follow  the  herds." 

This  was  in  August.  They  all  moved  down  near  our 
place,  and  while  the  hunters  rode  the  plains  after  ante- 
lope, the  chiefs  conferred  with  Berry,  planning  for  the 
winter.  They  finally  decided  to  move  to  the  Judith 
country,  where  the  buffalo  were  thought  to  be  still  plen- 
tiful and  where,  of  course,  there  were  practically  as  many 
elk  and  deer,  beaver  and  wolves  as  ever.  In  September 
we  also  trailed  out,  Berry,  the  Crow  Woman,  Nat-ah'-ki 
and  I,  and  in  a  week  or  more  went  into  camp  on  the 
Judith  River,  only  a  mile  or  two  above  the  mouth  of 
Warm  Spring  Creek.  In  Fort  Benton  we  had  engaged 
a  couple  of  extra  men,  and  with  their  help  we  soon  threw 
up  a  row  of  log  cabins  and  a  couple  of  rude  fireplaces. 
We  were  located  in  the  heart  of  an  extensive  cottonwood 
grove,  sheltered  from  the  northern  winds,  and  right  be- 
side us  ran  the  river,  then  fairly  alive  with  big,  fat  trout. 
According  to  agreement,  the  Piegans  came  and  pitched 
their  lodges  near  us,  and  a  part  of  the  Blood  tribe  moved 
down  from  the  north  and  mixed  with  them.  We  cer- 
tainly had  enough  hunters,  and  if  the  buffalo  were 
rather  scarce  in  our  immediate  vicinity  there  were  great 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  RIDE  361' 

herds  of  them  only  a  day's  journey  to  the  eastward. 
As  for  the  deer  and  elk,  the  country  swarmed  with  them, 
and  antelope,  too. 

Up  on  Warm  Spring  Creek  there  was  a  cattle  ranch 
which  had  been  located  the  previous  year.  A  man 
named  Brooks  was  its  manager,  and  it  was  owned  by 
a  great  firm  which  had  large  mercantile  interests  in 
Helena  and  Fort  Benton  and  Fort  Macleod,  and  also 
the  tradership  at  the  Blackfeet  Agency,  which  the  Pie- 
gans  had  left  in  search  of  game.  This  was,  I  believe, 
the  only  cattle  ranch  at  that  time  in  all  the  vast  country 
lying  between  the  Highwood  Mountains  and  the  Yellow- 
stone. Since  then  that  once  rich- grassed  country  has 
supported  hundreds  of  such  ranches.  And  then  came 
the  sheep  and  fed  it  off.  It  would  make  the  old-time 
hunters  weep  to  see  those  barren  plains  and  hills  as 
they  are  to-day.  I  don't  wish  ever  to  see  them  again. 
I  prefer  to  remember  them  as  I  last  saw  them,  before 
they  were  despoiled  by  the  white  men's  herds  and  flocks. 
Just  think  how  many  centuries  those  rolling  plains 
furnished  sustenance  to  the  countless  herds  of  buffalo 
and  antelope  which  roamed  them,  and  how  many  more 
centuries  they  might  have  lasted  but  for  the  white  man's 
greed.  I  believe  with  the  Indian  that  the  white  man 
is  a  terrible  destroyer.  He  leaves  the  grassy  plains 
mere  brown  wastes;  before  him  the  forests  disappear, 
and  only  blackened  stumps  mark  where  once  stood  their 
green  and  lovely  aisles.  Why,  he  even  dries  up  the 
streams,  and  tears  down  the  mountains.  And  with  him 
are  crime,  and  hunger,  and  want  such  as  were  never 
before  known.  Does  it  pay?  Is  it  right  that  the  many 
must  pay  for  the  greed  of  the  few? 

Once  only,  during  the  winter,  did  I  find  time  for  a 
hunt,  as  Berry  was  on  the  road  much  of  the  time. 


36a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  went  once  after  buffalo,  camping  with 
Red  Bird's  Tail,  a  genial  man  of  thirty-five  or  forty  years. 
There  were  few  lodges  of  us,  but  many  people,  and  we 
travelled  as  light  as  possible.  We  found  buffalo  toward 
the  close  of  the  first  day  out,  but  went  on  until  noon  of 
the  next  one,  and  camped  on  the  head  of  Armells  Creek. 
I  had  never  seen  the  buffalo  more  plentiful  than  we  found 
them  there.  From  a  little  butte  nearby  we  could  see 
that  the  prairie  was  black  with  them  clear  to  the  breaks 
of  the  Missouri,  and  to  the  eastward  where  the  buttes 
of  Big  Crooked  Creek  and  the  Musselshell  loomed  in  the 
distance.  The  Moccasin  Mountains  shut  off  the  view 
to  the  south,  but  westward,  whence  we  had  come,  there 
were  also  buffalo. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Red  Bird's  Tail,  who  had  ridden 
up  beside  me.  "Who  says  the  buffalo  are  about  gone? 
Why,  it  is  as  it  has  always  been;  the  land  is  dark  with 
them.  Never  have  I  seen  them  more  plentiful." 

"Remember  that  we  have  come  far  to  find  them," 
I  told  him;  "that  the  plains  to  the  west,  and  away  in 
the  north,  are  barren  of  them." 

"Ah,  that  is  true,  but  it  will  not  be  for  long;  they 
must  have  all  moved  eastward  for  a  time,  as  our  fathers 
tell  us  once  happened  before.  They  will  go  back  again. 
Surely,  the  good  Sun  will  not  forget  us." 

I  had  not  the  heart  to  destroy  his  hopes,  to  tell  him 
of  the  vast  regions  away  to  the  east  and  south  of 
us,  where  there  were  no  longer  any  buffalo,  where 
the  antelope,  even,  had  been  practically  extermi- 
nated. 

Red  Bird's  Tail  was  the  leader  of  our  party,  and  the 
hunters  were  subject  to  his  orders.  We  had  ridden  out 
on  to  the  butte  very  early,  and  after  getting  a  view  of  the 
country  and  the  position  of  the  herds,  he  decided  that  a 


NAT-AH'-KI'S  RIDE  363 

certain  herd  southwest  of  us  should  be  chased,  as  they 
would  run  westward  into  the  wind,  and  not  disturb  the 
larger  ones  grazing  here  and  there  in  other  directions. 
We  returned  then  to  camp  for  our  morning  meal,  and 
to  wait  until  everyone  had  saddled  his  favourite  horse 
and  was  ready  to  start.  It  was  a  warm  day,  some  snow 
on  the  ground,  but  a  mild  chinook  wind  blowing,  so 
Nat-ah'-ki  accompanied  us,  as  well  as  most  of  the  other 
women.  The  lay  of  the  land  was  favourable  and  we 
succeeded  in  riding  right  into  the  edge  of  the  herd  before 
they  became  alarmed,  and  then  they  ran,  as  Red  Bird's 
Tail  had  predicted,  southwestward  into  the  wind  and  up 
a  long  slope,  an  outlying  ridge  of  the  mountains.  That 
gave  us  an  advantage,  as  the  buffalo  were  not  swift 
runners  on  an  up-grade.  On  a  down-hill  run,  however, 
they  could  easily  outstrip  the  swiftest  horse.  All  their 
weight  was  forward;  there  was  not  enough  strength  in 
their  small,  low  hindquarters  to  propel  their  abnormally 
deep  chests,  huge  heads,  and  heavy  hump  with  any 
noticeable  speed  when  they  went  up  hill. 

Nat-ah'-ki  was  riding  a  little  mare  of  gentle  mien  and 
more  than  quiet  disposition,  which  had  been  loaned 
her  by  one  of  our  Blood  friends  for  the  trip.  All  the 
way  from  the  Judith  she  kept  plying  her  quirt  and  call- 
ing it  sundry  reproachful  names,  in  order  to  keep  it 
beside  my  more  lively  and  spirited  mount.  But  the 
moment  we  came  near  the  herd,  and  the  hunters  dashed 
into  it,  the  animal's  demeanour  suddenly  changed.  It 
reared  up  under  her  restraining  hand,  pranced  sideways 
with  arching  neck  and  twitching  ears,  and  then,  getting 
the  bit  firmly  in  its  teeth,  it  sprang  out  into  the  chase 
as  madly  as  any  other  of  the  trained  runners.  Indeed, 
that  is  what  it  was,  a  well-trained  buffalo  horse,  but  the 
owner  had  not  thought  to  tell  us  so.  It  was  even  swifter 


364  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

than  mine,  and  I  felt  no  little  anxiety  as  I  saw  it  carry 
her  into  that  sea  of  madly  running,  shaggy-backed, 
gleaming-eyed  animals.  In  vain  I  urged  my  horse;  I 
could  not  overtake  her,  and  my  warning  shouts  were 
lost  in  the  thunder  and  rattle  of  a  thousand  hoofs.  I 
soon  saw  that  she  was  not  trying  to  hold  in  the  animal, 
but  was  quirting  it  instead,  and  once  she  looked  back 
at  me  and  laughed,  her  eyes  shining  with  excitement. 
On  we  went,  up  the  slope  for  a  mile  or  more,  and  then 
the  scattering  herd  drew  away  from  us  and  went  flying 
down  the  other  side  of  the  ridge. 

"What  made  you  do  it?"  I  asked  as  we  checked  up 
our  sweating,  panting  horses.  "Why  did  you  do  it?  I 
was  so  afraid  you  would  get  a  fall,  perhaps  be  hooked  by 
some  of  the  wounded." 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "at  first  I  was  scared,  too,  but  it 
was  such  fun,  riding  after  them.  Just  think  of  it,  I 
struck  four  of  them  with  my  quirt!  I  just  wanted  to 
keep  on,  and  on,  and  I  never  thought  of  badger  holes,  or 
falling,  or  anything  else.  And  once  a  great  big  cow 
looked  up  at  me  and  snorted  so  hard  that  I  felt  her 
warm  breath.  Tell  me,  how  many  did  you  kill?" 

"Not  one,"  I  replied.  I  hadn't  fired  a  shot;  I  had 
noticed  nothing,  seen  nothing  but  her  as  she  rode  in  the 
thick  of  it  all,  and  I  was  more  than  glad  when  the  run 
ended.  We  looked  back  down  the  slope  and  saw  the 
hunters  and  their  women  already  at  work  on  the  carcasses 
of  their  kill,  which  dotted  the  snow.  But  we — we  were 
meatless.  It  would  never  do  for  us  to  return  to  camp 
without  some,  so  we  rode  on  for  a  mile  or  two  in  the 
direction  the  herd  had  gone,  and  then  turned  off  into  the 
mountains.  Up  among  the  pines  there  were  deer,  both 
kinds,  and  here  and  there  were  groups  of  elk  feeding  or 
lying  down  in  the  open  parks.  While  Nat-ah'-ki  held 


NAT-AH'-KTS  RIDE  365 

my  horse  I  approached  some  of  the  elk,  and  by  good  luck 
killed  a  fat,  dry  cow.  We  built  a  fire  and  roasted  some 
of  the  liver  and  a  piece  of  tripe,  and,  after  a  hasty  meal, 
rode  back  to  camp  with  all  the  meat  our  horses  could 
conveniently  pack, 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

CURBING    THE    WANDERERS 

WE  MADE  another  run  the  next  day.  It  was  an 
auspicious  morning.  The  sun  shone  bright  and 
warm,  there  was  a  big  herd  of  buffalo  nearby,  everyone 
rode  out  from  camp  in  the  best  of  spirits.  I  had  changed 
horses  with  Nat-ah'-ki;  while  mine  liked  to  run  as  well  as 
hers,  it  had  a  tender  mouth,  and  she  could  easily  control 
it.  Once  into  the  herd,  I  paid  no  attention  to  anyone 
else,  but  did  my  best  to  single  out  the  fat  cows,  overtake 
and  kill  them.  I  did  not  need  the  meat  nor  robes,  but 
there  were  those  with  us  who  had  poor  mounts,  and 
what  I  killed  I  intended  to  give  them.  So  I  urged  the 
little  mare  on,  even  after  she  had  begun  to  show  fatigue, 
and  managed  to  kill  seven  head.  When  I  stopped  at 
last,  no  one  was  near  me ;  looking  back  I  saw  the  people 
gathered  in  two  groups,  and  from  the  largest  and  nearest 
one  arose  the  distressing  wailing  of  the  women  for  the 
dead.  I  soon  learned  the  cause  of  it  all;  Young  Arrow 
Maker  had  been  killed,  his  horse  disembowelled;  Two 
Bows  had  been  thrown  and  his  leg  was  broken.  A  huge 
old  bull,  wounded  and  mad  with  pain,  had  lunged  into 
Arrow  Maker's  horse,  tearing  out  its  flank  and  knocking 
the  rider  off  on  to  the  backs  of  its  close-pursuing  mates 
whence  he  had  fallen  to  the  ground  and  been  literally 
trampled  to  death  by  the  frantic-running  herd.  Two 
Bows'  horse  had  stepped  into  a  badger  hole  and  he  had 
been  hurled  to  the  ground  with  such  force  that  he  lay 
senseless,  his  right  leg  broken  above  the  knee.  Some  of 

366 


CURBING  THE  WANDERERS  367 

the  women's  horses  were  dragging  travois,  and  we  laid 
the  dead  and  the  injured  on  them  and  they  were  taken 
to  camp  by  their  relatives.  We  hurried  to  skin  the  dead 
buffalo,  some  of  the  hunters  taking  no  more  of  the  meat 
than  the  tongue  and  boss  ribs,  and  then  we  also  went 
back  to  the  lodges,  very  silently  and  quietly  you  may  be 
sure.  There  was  no  feasting  and  visiting  and  singing 
that  night.  Instead,  women  wailing,  men  sitting  sol- 
emnly by  the  fire,  smoking  and  thinking  upon  the  un- 
certainties of  life,  occasionally  speaking  praises  of  their 
dead  comrade  and  regretting  his  untimely  end. 

They  buried  Arrow  Maker  in  the  morning,  placing  the 
body  in  the  forks  of  a  big  cottonwood,  and  then  we  pre- 
pared to  move  camp,  which  took  all  the  rest  of  the  day, 
as  meat  was  cut  and  dried  to  reduce  weight,  and  the 
many  hides  had  to  be  trimmed,  the  frozen  ones  thawed 
and  folded  for  packing.  There  was  not  a  man  in  camp 
who  knew  anything  about  mending  a  broken  leg,  but  we 
splinted  and  bound  Two  Bows'  fracture  as  best  we  could. 
On  the  succeeding  morning  we  broke  camp  early  and 
started  homeward,  every  one  being  fairly  frantic  to  get 
away  from  the  unlucky  place,  to  end  the  unlucky  hunt 
before  more  misfortune  should  happen.  The  injured 
man  was  made  as  comfortable  as  possible  on  a  couch 
lashed  to  a  travois. 

In  the  afternoon  a  blizzard  set  in,  a  bitterly  cold  one, 
which  drifted  and  whirled  the  fine  snow  in  clouds  around 
us.  A  few  decided  to  make  camp  in  the  first  patch  of 
timber  we  should  come  to,  but  the  rest  declared  that  they 
would  not  stop,  but  would  keep  on  through  the 
night  until  they  arrived  home.  They  were  afraid  to 
stop ;  more  afraid  of  some  dread  misfortune  overtaking 
them  than  they  were  of  Cold  Maker's  blinding  snow  and 
intense  cold.  Evil  spirits,  they  reasoned,  hovered  near 


368  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

them,  had  already  caused  death  and  suffering,  and  none 
would  be  safe  until  the  hunt  was  ended  and  sacrifices 
made  to  the  gods.  Red  Bird's  Tail  was  one  of  those 
who  elected  to  keep  on.  We  could  have  stopped  and 
found  shelter  with  some  family  which  turned  off  into  a 
timbered  coulee  to  camp  until  the  storm  should  be  over ; 
but  Nat-ah'-ki  declared  that  she  wasn't  in  the  least 
cold  and  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  our  comfortable 
shack  and  warm  fire-place.  "We  can  make  it  by  mid- 
night," she  said,  "and  just  think  how  pleasant  it  will 
be  to  eat  before  our  little  fire,  and  then  sleep  in  our  big, 
soft,  warm  bed.  Don't  be  afraid  for  me,  I  can  stand  it." 
That  was  a  terrible  night.  There  was  a  moon,  but 
most  of  the  time  it  was  hidden  by  the  low  flying  snow- 
spitting  clouds.  We  simply  hung  on  to  our  saddles  and 
gave  our  horses  the  reins,  trusting  them  to  keep  in  the 
trail  which  Red  Bird's  Tail  broke  for  us.  We  could  not 
have  guided  them  had  we  wished  to,  for  our  hands  be- 
came so  numb  we  were  obliged  to  fold  them  in  the  robes 
and  blankets  which  enveloped  us.  I  rode  directly  behind 
Nat-ah'-ki,  she  next  after  our  leader,  whose  family  fol- 
lowed us.  Looking  back  I  could  see  them  sometimes, 
but  more  often  they  were  hidden  in  the  blinding  snow. 
Red  Bird's  Tail  and  many  of  the  other  men  frequently 
sprang  from  their  horses  and  walked,  even  ran,  in  vain 
effort  to  keep  warm,  but  the  women  remained  in  the 
saddle  and  shivered,  and  some  froze  hands  and  faces. 
While  still  some  six  or  eight  miles  from  home,  Red  Bird's 
Tail,  walking  ahead  of  his  horse,  dropped  into  a  spring, 
over  which  the  snow  had  drifted.  The  water  was  waist- 
deep  and  froze  on  his  leggings  the  instant  he  climbed  out 
of  the  hole ;  but  he  made  no  complaint,  walking  sturdily 
on  through  the  deepening  drifts  until  we  finally  arrived 
home.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  dismount,  I  was  so  stiff 


CURBING  THE  WANDERERS  369 

and  cramped,  and  cold;  and  I  had  to  lift  Nat-ah'-ki 
from  her  saddle  and  carry  her  inside.  It  was  past  one 
o'clock,  and  we  had  been  on  the  road  something  like 
seventeen  hours!  I  aroused  one  of  the  men  to  care  for 
our  horses,  and  we  crawled  into  bed,  under  a  half-dozen 
robes  and  blankets,  shivering  so  hard  that  our  teeth 
chattered.  But  if  you  ever  get  really  numb  with  cold,  try 
our  way.  You  will  get  warm  much  sooner  than  by  sitting 
before  the  fire  and  swallowing  hot  drinks. 

When  we  awoke  in  the  morning  it  was  nearly  noon ;  and 
we  learned  that  a  woman  of  our  party  was  missing.  Some- 
how, some  where,  in  the  fearful  night  she  had  dropped  from 
her  horse  and  Cold  Maker  had  claimed  her  for  his  own. 
Her  body  was  never  found.  I  related  the  experiences 
of  the  trip  to  Berry.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  warned  you 
not  to  go.  A  man  who  can  stay  close  to  the  fire  in  the 
winter,  but  leaves  it  for  a  hunt  out  on  the  plains,  is  sure 
locoed.  Yes,  sir,  he's  a  blankety  blank,  plumb  fool." 

In  September  a  man  named  Charles  Walmsley,  en 
route  from  Fort  Macleod  to  Fort  Benton,  was  found 
murdered  on  Cut  Bank  Creek,  midway  between  the  two 
places.  His  wagon,  harness,  and  other  effects  had  been 
partly  burned  and  thrown  into  the  stream.  Suspicion 
finally  fell  upon  one,  Turtle,  and  his  companion,  The 
Rider,  Blood  Indians,  who  had  spent  several  hundred 
dollars  Canadian  money  in  Fort  Benton  for  guns  and 
various  things  dear  to  the  Indian's  heart.  They  were 
in  the  Blood  section  of  camp,  and  learning  their  where- 
abouts, the  sheriff  of  our  county  came  out  to  arrest  them, 
bringing  with  him  only  the  under-sheriff,  Jeff  Talbot. 
There  may  have  been  braver  men  on  the  frontier  than 
Sheriff  John  J.  Healy,  but  I  never  met  them.  He  held 
the  office  for  I  know  not  how  many  terms,  and  owned 
the  Fort  Benton  Record,  the  first  newspaper  to  be 


370  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

printed  on  the  plains  of  Montana.  Previous  to  this  he 
had  been  an  Indian  trader,  and  was  one  of  the  leading 
men  of  Whoop  Up  and  the  northern  trade;  one  of  the 
"thieves,  murderers,  criminals  of  every  stripe,"  as  Miss 
Laut  calls  us. 

He  and  Talbot  drove  in  at  our  place  about  sundown 
one  evening,  and  as  soon  as  they  had  cared  for 
their  horses,  he  told  why  they  had  come. 

Berry  shook  his  head.  "I  wouldn't  attempt  to  arrest 
them  here  if  I  were  you,"  he  said.  "These  Bloods  are 
pretty  mean,  and  Turtle  has  a  whole  lot  of  relatives  and 
friends  among  them.  I  believe  they'll  fight.  Old  man, 
you'd  better  go  back  and  get  some  of  the  soldiers  at  the 
fort  to  help  you." 

"  I  don't  care  a  continental  d if  he  has  a  thousand 

friends  and  relatives!"  Healy  exclaimed.  "I've  come 
out  here  after  those  Indians,  and  they're  going  back 
with  me,  dead  or  alive." 

"Well,  "said  Berry,  "if  you  are  bound  to  try  it,  of  course 
we'll  stay  with  you;  but  I  don't  like  it  a  bit." 

"No,  sir,"  said  Healy.  "This  is  my  funeral.  On 
account  of  your  trade  you  can't  afford  to  mix  up  in  it. 
They'd  have  it  in  for  you  and  move  away.  Come  on. 
Jeff." 

They  went,  and  we  passed  about  fifteen  minutes  of 
pretty  acute  suspense.  We  armed  our  men  and  our- 
selves, and  stood  waiting  to  go  to  their  aid,  although  we 
knew  that  if  anything  happened,  we  would  be  too  late; 
and  again,  what  could  we  few  do  against  a  big  camp  of 
angry  Indians!  But  while  we  were  talking,  and  you 
may  be  sure  keeping  a  good  watch  on  the  camp,  here 
came  Healy  and  Talbot  with  their  men,  both  securely 
handcuffed.  One  they  chained  to  the  centre  post  of  our 
trade  room,  the  other  to  a  log  wall  of  the  kitchen. 


CURBING  THE  WANDERERS  371 

"There!"  Healy  exclaimed,  "that  is  done  and  I'm  tired. 
Haven't  you  anything  to  give  a  hungry  man?  I'm  just 
starving." 

Healy  spoke  good  Blackfoot.  When  he  and  Talbot 
went  into  the  camp  he  inquired  for  Running  Rabbit,  the 
Blood  chief,  and  they  were  shown  into  his  lodge,  where  he 
quickly  stated  his  business.  The  old  chief  said  that  he 
would  send  for  them,  and  they  could  have  a  talk.  "  But," 
he  concluded,  "I  can't  be  answerable  for  what  may  hap- 
pen if  you  try  to  put  your  hands  on  them  and  take  them 
away.  My  young  men  are  wild.  I  can't  control  them." 

The  women  sent  to  ask  Turtle  and  The  Rider  to  the 
chief's  lodge  had  been  cautioned  to  say  nothing,  to  give 
no  reason  why  they  were  wanted,  and  they  came  in  and 
sat  down  quite  unsuspicious,  followed  by  a  number 
of  other  men,  curious  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  white 
men's  visit.  Healy  soon  explained  it. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Turtle,  "and 
I'm  not  going  with  you.  I  will  not  go;  I'll  fight;  I've 
got  lots  of  friends  here  who  will  help  me." 

He  had  no  sooner  spoken  than  Healy,  who  was  a  very 
powerful  man,  seized  him  and  snapped  a  pair  of  hand- 
cuffs on  his  wrists,  Talbot  doing  the  same  with  The 
Rider.  Both  of  the  Indians  were  furious,  and  those 
sitting  with  them  became  greatly  excited,  some  crying 
out,  "You  shall  not  take  them."  "We  will  not  let  them 
go."  "Take  off  those  iron  things,  or  we  will  do  you 
harm." 

"Listen!"  said  Healy,  holding  up  his  hand  warningly. 
"You  all  know  me;  I  guess  you  know  I  am  not  afraid. 
I  have  got  to  take  these  two  men  with  me.  I  am  going 
to  take  them.  If  any  of  you  interfere,  I  will  not  be  the 
only  one  to  die.  You  know  how  I  can  shoot — well, 
some  of  you  will  die  before  I  do." 


372  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

He  had  not  pulled  his  gun;  he  stared  them  coldly  in 
the  eyes,  and  when  he  was  aroused  those  eyes  fairly  made 
an  evil-doer  shiver. 

"Come ! "  he  said  to  Turtle,  and,  as  if  dazed,  the  Indian 
mechanically  arose  and  followed  him  out,  Talbot  and 
the  other  following. 

None  of  us  slept  much  that  night.  Late  in  the  evening 
a  Piegan  youth  came  in  and  told  us  that  the  Bloods  were 
planning  to  rescue  their  friends,  some  proposing  to 
attack  the  trading  post,  others  saying  that  it  would  be 
better  to  waylay  the  officers  on  the  trail  next  day.  ' '  You 
go  back  and  tell  them  that  I  hope  they'll  try  it,"  said 
Healy.  "We've  got  some  big  Winchesters  and  six- 
shooters,  and  plenty  of  cartridges,  and  we'll  have  a  real 
good  time.  Turtle  and  The  Rider  here  will  get  our  first 
two  bullets." 

The  prisoners  were  taken  safely  to  Helena,  and  when 
the  trial  came  off,  The  Rider  turned  States  evidence; 
Turtle  had  shot  Walmsley  in  the  back  while  he  was 
cooking  supper.  He  got  imprisonment  for  life,  and  died 
two  years  later  in  the  penitentiary  in  Detroit.  No 
white  man  has  since  been  killed  by  any  Indians  of  the 
Blackfeet  tribes. 

The  winter  had  been  pretty  hard,  and  the  Indians  did 
not  kill  so  many  buffalo  as  they  would  had  the  herds 
been  nearer  camp.  Still,  they  were  tanning  a  good 
number  of  robes,  and  had  a  large  number  of  rawhides 
on  hand,  when,  one  evening,  a  detachment  of  soldiers 
under  command  of  Lieutenant  Grouse  arrived  from  Fort 
Benton.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  women  and  children 
run  to  hide  in  the  brush,  their  eyes  wide  with  fear.  They 
had  not  forgotten  the  Baker  massacre.  The  men  said 
nothing,  but  they  seized  their  weapons  and  stood  about 
outside  of  their  lodges,  ready  to  fight  if  need  be,  until 


CURBING  THE   WANDERERS  373 

they  saw  the  detachment  halt  and  prepare  to  camp.  It 
was  not  to  be  war  then,  they  concluded,  and  called  in 
their  wives  and  little  ones.  But  the  soldiers'  errand  was 
only  a  degree  or  two  less  serious  than  would  have  been  a 
battle.  They  had  come  to  escort  the  Piegans  back  to 
their  reservation,  where  there  were  no  buffalo,  nor  game 
of  any  kind,  and  to  fight  them  if  they  refused  to  go.  A 
council  was  held.  "Why,  why,"  asked  White  Calf,  his 
face  ashen  with  suppressed  anger,  "is  this  to  be  done? 
By  what  right?  We  are  on  our  own  ground.  It  was 
always  ours.  Who  shall  say  that  we  must  leave  it?" 

Lieutenant  Grouse  told  them  that  he  was  but  an  un- 
willing instrument,  carrying  out  the  order  of  his  su- 
periors, who  in  turn  had  been  told  by  the  Great  Father 
himself  that  they  must  move  the  Piegans  back  to  their 
Agency.  Complaint  had  been  made  of  them.  The 
cattlemen  claimed  that  they  were  killing  their  cattle 
and  had  requested  that  they  be  sent  home.  The  Great 
Father  had  listened  to  their  demand.  The  lieutenant 
was  a  gentle,  kindly  man,  and  did  not  like  the  mission 
on  which  he  had  been  sent. 

"Listen!"  said  White  Calf.  "Years  ago  there  came 
some  of  the  Great  Father's  men  on  a  steamboat  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Judith  River,  and  there  they  made  a  treaty 
with  our  people.  It  was  made  on  paper,  which  they 
and  our  chiefs  put  their  names  on.  I  was  a  young  man 
then,  but  I  had  understanding  and  I  well  remember 
what  was  put  on  that  paper  in  the  white  man's  writing. 
It  said  that  all  the  land  lying  north  of  the  Musselsheli 
River  and  the  Missouri  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  Milk 
River,  up  to  the  Canadian  line,  from  the  Rockies  east- 
ward to  a  line  running  north  from  the  mouth  of  Mill- 
River,  all  that  country,  it  said,  was  ours.  Since  that 
time  the  whites  have  never  bought  any  of  it,  nor  even 


374  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

asked  us  for  any.  How  then,  can  they  say  that  we  shall 
not  hunt  here? 

"We  are  accused  of  killing  cattle!  We  have  not  done 
so.  Why  should  we  when  we  have  fat  buffalo  and  deer 
and  elk  and  other  game,  fat  animals,  all  whose  hides 
are  useful!  We  do  not  wish  to  return  to  our  Agency. 
The  man  there  has  nothing  for  us.  There  is  no  game 
in  that  region.  If  we  go,  we  must  starve.  It  is  a 
dreadful  thing  to  suffer  for  want  of  food.  Pity  our 
little  children,  our  women,  and  our  aged  ones.  Go  you 
back  to  your  fort  and  leave  us  in  peace." 

Others  arose  and  talked,  and  their  pleas  to  be  allowed 
to  remain  in  the  game  country  were  truly  pathetic.  I 
believe  they  brought  moisture  to  the  eyes  of  many  of 
us.  I  am  sure  that  there  was  a  catch  in  the  lieutenant's 
voice  when  he  replied  that  he  was  powerless  to  do  as 
they  wished,  and  he  asked  them  not  to  make  it  any 
harder  for  him  by  refusing  to  go.  He  then  arose  and 
left  the  council,  asking  to  be  informed  soon  what  they 
concluded  to  do. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  decide.  "Of  course,"  said 
White  Calf,  "we  could  kill  the  soldiers  here,  but  others, 
many  more,  would  replace  them.  They  would  kill  off 
our  women  and  children,  even  the  new-born  babies,  as 
they  did  before  on  the  Marias.  No,  we  cannot  fight 
them.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  Agency  and  try  in  some 
way  to  procure  food." 

A  couple  of  days  later  the  lodges  came  down,  we  packed 
our  robes  and  various  impedimenta  into  wagons  and 
abandoned  the  camp,  and  all  took  the  trail  for  the  north, 
escorted  by  the  soldiers.  This  was  in  March,  and  the 
Indians'  stock  was  so  worn  and  poor  that  they  could 
travel  only  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  a  day,  and  hundreds 
of  horses  died  along  the  trail.  Heavily  loaded  as  were 


CURBING  THE  WANDERERS  375 

our  wagons,  we  made  even  better  time  than  they,  and 
arrived  in  Fort  Benton  ahead  of  them.  Our  total  trade 
amounted  to  eight  hundred  robes,  three  thousand  deer, 
elk,  and  antelope  hides,  and  I  forget  how  many  beaver 
and  wolf  skins. 

From  Fort  Benton  the  Indians  journeyed  slowly  out  to 
our  place,  Fort  Conrad,  and  thence  straggled  on  up  to 
their  Agency,  where  the  women  tanned  their  raw  hides, 
and  from  the  sale  of  the  robes  they  kept  from  actual 
starvation  for  a  time. 

And  now,  here  is  the  true  explanation  of  this  unjust 
and  cruel  treatment  of  the  Piegans:  As  before  stated, 
the  owners  of  that  lone  cattle  ranch  on  Big  Spring  Creek 
also  owned  the  traders'  post  at  the  Agency,  and  they 
wanted  to  have  the  Indians  back  there,  well  knowing 
that  they  would  get  some  hundreds  of  robes  from  them. 
So  they  trumped  up  the  charge  that  the  Piegans  were 
slaughtering  their  cattle,  and  having  powerful  influence 
in  Washington,  their  complaint  was  listened  to,  and  be- 
lieved. They  got  the  robes  all  right,  and,  seeing  the 
successful  trade  they  were  doing,  they  induced  an  in- 
nocent pilgrim  to  purchase  the  tradership  from  them. 
He  got  an  empty  bag,  for  by  mid-summer  the  Piegans 
hadn't  a  single  robe  to  sell,  nor  anything  else  with  which 
to  purchase  a  pound  of  tea. 

By  right  that  vast  tract  of  country  lying  between  the 
Missouri  and  Musselshell  rivers  and  from  the  Missouri 
to  the  Marias  still  belongs  to  the  Blackfeet.  The  treaty 
of  1855  guaranteed  it  to  them,  but  it  was  taken  away 
by  two  executive  orders  of  July  2,  1873,  and  August  19, 
1874.  If  some  good  lawyer  would  take  up  the  case,  he 
could  undoubtedly  get  redress  for  them,  and  a  very 
handsome  fee  for  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

CREES    AND   RED    RIVERS 

HOME  again  at  Fort  Conrad.  Somehow  Nat-ah'-ki 
and  I  liked  that  place  better  than  any  we  had 
lived  in.  The  river,  murmuring  and  gurgling  by  our 
window,  the  lovely  green  groves  in  the  grassy  bottoms, 
the  sloping  rise  of  the  valley,  the  rude  room  itself  built 
of  massive  logs,  cool  in  summer,  warm  in  winter  and 
alight  with  the  blaze  in  the  hearth,  seemed  to  us  all  that 
we  could  desire.  "Let  us  never  leave  here  again," 
she  said;  "let  us  stay  right  here  in  peace  and  comfort." 

But  I  told  her,  as  I  had  before,  that  we  could  not 
always  do  as  we  wished ;  that  in  a  few  weeks,  or  months, 
we  might  be  obliged  to  take  the  trail  to  buffalo  again. 

Berry  made  a  flying  trip  through  the  buffalo  country 
in  May,  and  upon  his  return  we  made  preparations  to 
establish  a  trading  post  on  the  Missouri  at  a  place  named 
Carrol,  something  like  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  below 
Fort  Benton.  Steele  and  Broadwater,  partners  in  the 
"Diamond  R."  outfit,  which  was  a  great  transportation 
company,  had  started  the  place  some  years  before  with 
the  view  of  hauling  freight  from  the  steamboats  there 
directly  to  Helena,  but  for  various  reasons  this  plan  had 
failed,  and  their  buildings  had  long  since  fallen  into  the 
ever-encroaching  river.  We  chose  the  location  because 
it  lay  south  of  the  Little  Rocky  Mountains,  north  of  the 
Snowies,  had  good  wagon  roads  leading  out  of  it,  and 
above  all  because  it  seemed  to  be  in  the  very  centre  of 
the  remaining  buffalo  country.  We  sent  a  trusty  Indian 

376 


CREES  AND  RED  RIVERS  377 

north  into  Canada  to  notify  the  Blackfeet  and  Bloods  of 
our  intention,  and  they  agreed  to  move  down  there  as 
soon  as  possible.  So  did  our  near  neighbours,  the  Pie- 
gans.  We  counted  on  having  a  big  trade,  and  as  it 
turned  out,  we  were  not  mistaken. 

It  was  about  the  first  of  July  (1880)  that  we  em- 
barked on  the  Red  Cloud  at  Fort  Benton,  Berry,  the 
Crow  Woman,  Nat-ah'-ki,  and  I.  There  went  with  us 
also  a  French  half-breed,  named  Eli  Gardipie,  the  best 
rifle-shot,  the  best  buffalo  runner,  and  all-around 
hunter  I  ever  knew.  He  was  six  feet  two  in  height,  rather 
slender,  and  I  never  saw  any  one  who  could  keep  up 
with  him  walking  or  running,  for  he  had  the  wind  and 
the  muscle  to  endure.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Judith  we 
came  to  the  buffalo,  the  bottoms  covered  with  them,  the 
river  black  with  them  swimming  across,  some  north,  some 
south.  And  we  saw  herds  of  deer  and  elk  and  antelope, 
and  on  the  bare  cliffs  and  buttes  many  a  flock  of  bighorn. 
The  sight  of  all  the  game  gladdened  our  eyes,  and  aston- 
ished the  "tenderfeet"  passengers.  They  made  a  rush 
for  their  rifles  and  shotguns  and  toy  pistols,  but  the 
captain  of  the  boat  forbade  any  shooting.  He  told 
Gardipie,  however,  that  he  would  like  to  eat  some 
roast  bighorn  saddle,  and  gave  him  permission  to  kill 
one.  Soon  afterward  we  saw  a  fine  big  ram  standing 
near  the  top  of  a  butte  watching  us.  It  was  at  least 
three  hundred  yards  away,  but  a  moment  after  Gard- 
ipie "s  rifle  cracked  it  toppled  over  and  rolled  and  bounded 
down  into  the  river  with  a  mighty  splash.  The  captain 
reversed  the  big  stern  wheel,  and  waited  for  it  to  float 
alongside,  when  the  roustabouts  drew  it  on  deck.  That 
was  about  as  difficult  a  shot  as  I  ever  saw  made.  The 
tenderfeet  gathered  around  Gardipie,  and  stared  at 
him  in  open-mouthed  wonder. 


378  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

We  arrived  at  Carrol  late  in  the  afternoon.  We  had 
tons  and  tons  of  trade  goods  aboard,  and  it  was  wonder- 
ful to  see  how  quickly  the  deckhands  put  the  stuff  ashore. 
Berry's  bull  train  had  preceded  us,  overland,  and  the 
men  had  already  put  up  a  commodious  two-room  cabin, 
which  was  to  be  our  kitchen  and  dining  room.  We 
took  possession  of  it  at  once,  and  the  women  cooked 
us  a  good  meal. 

By  the  middle  of  September  we  were  in  good  shape 
for  the  winter,  having  built  a  large  log  store  and  ware- 
house 40x125  feet,  a  smoke-house  for  curing  buffalo 
tongues,  and  a  row  of  sleeping  quarters.  True  to  their 
promise,  the  Blackfeet  and  Bloods  came  down  from  the 
north,  and  a  little  later  came  about  two  thousand 
Canadian  Crees,  under  Chief  Big  Bear.  There  also 
trailed  in  a  large  number  of  Red  River  French  and 
English  halfbreeds  with  their  awkward,  creaking,  iron- 
less,  two-wheel  carts.  Surely,  we  were  not  going  to 
lack  for  customers.  An  opposition  trader  had  started 
a  small  store  about  two  hundred  yards  above  us.  He 
had  never  been  in  the  Indian  trade,  but  boasted  of  his 
commercial  successes  in  the  States,  and  said  that  he 
would  soon  put  us  out  of  business,  even  if  he  did  not  have 
such  a  large  stock  of  goods.  When  the  Blackfeet  ap- 
peared on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  he  went  across 
and  invited  the  chiefs  to  feast  with  him.  They  all  got  into 
his  boat  and  came  over,  but  the  moment  they  stepped 
ashore  a  bee-line  was  made  for  our  place,  and  the  welcome 
they  well  knew  awaited  them.  The  trader  was  about 
the  most  chagrined  man  you  can  imagine.  We  made 
things  interesting  for  him  before  the  winter  was  over. 

The  North  Blackfeet  were  friendly  with  the  Crees; 
had  intermarried  with  them  to  some  extent.  The  two 
tribes  camped  side  by  side  in  the  bottoms  near  us  all 


CREES  AND  RED  RIVERS  379 

winter.  The  Bloods,  however,  were  not  so  friendly  to 
them,  and  hunted  out  south  of  the  river,  along  the  foot 
of  the  Snowies.  The  chiefs  of  the  two  tribes  made  a  sort 
of  armistice,  agreeing  that  for  the  winter,  at  least,  there 
should  be  no  trouble  between  them.  But  the  Piegans 
would  not  meet  their  long-time  enemy,  and  hunted  in 
the  country  to  the  west  of  us,  occasionally  sending  out 
a  war  party  to  kill  a  few  of  the  Crees  and  drive  off  their 
stock.  We  got  none  of  their  trade. 

Nat-ah'-ki  and  the  Crow  Woman  were  highly  indignant 
when  they  saw  the  Crees  pull  in  from  the  north.  "By 
what  right,"  asked  the  latter,  "are  they  here?  The 
soldiers  ought  to  drive  them  back  to  their  brush  swamps. 
It  is  wrong  to  allow  them  to  kill  the  buffalo  and  other 
game  belonging  to  our  people." 

"They  are  dog-eating  dogs!"  Nat-ah'-ki  exclaimed. 
"  If  you  are  going  to  ask  their  chiefs  in  here  to  feast,  you 
can  find  someone  to  do  the  cooking,  for  I  will  not." 
And  she  kept  her  word.  Seeing  how  she  felt  about  it, 
I  found  an  English  halfbreed  family  to  take  charge  of  the 
mess.  Nat-ah'-ki  had  lost  a  brother  and  an  uncle  in 
war  with  the  Crees,  and  I  could  not  blame  her  for  feeling 
as  she  did  toward  them.  The  Piegans,  however,  had 
always  beaten  the  Crees,  as  they  were  braver,  better 
armed,  and  better  horsemen.  Where  the  town  of  Leth- 
bridge,  Alberta,  now  stands,  they  once  had  a  battle 
with  them  in  which  two  hundred  and  forty  of  the  Crees 
were  killed,  and  many  more  drowned  while  attempting 
to  escape  by  swimming  the  river. 

I  cannot  explain  why  I  also  had  a  deep  dislike  for  the 
Crees  unless  it  was  that  Nat-ah'-ki's  enemies  were  natu- 
rally mine,  too.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  did  hate 
and  despise  them,  their  looks,  manners,  and  even  their 
language.  I  soon  learned  their  words  for  the  different 


380  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

articles  of  trade,  but  would  never  use  them,  pretending 
that  I  did  not  understand,  and  obliging  them  to  tell  me 
what  they  wanted  either  in  Blackfoot,  which  most  of 
them  spoke,  or  by  means  of  the  sign  language.  Their 
chief,  Big  Bear,  was  a  short,  broad,  heavy-featured, 
small-eyed  man,  with  a  head  of  hair  which  seemed 
never  to  have  known  the  comb.  Why  he  was  a  chief 
I  could  never  learn.  He  did  not  seem  to  have  even  ordi- 
nary intelligence,  and  his  war  record  did  not  compare 
with  that  of  the  average  Blackfoot. 

Even  more  than  the  Crees,  I  disliked  their  half 
brothers,  the  French-Cree  Red  River  breeds.  They 
were  not  dark,  but  actually  black-skinned,  like  the  negro, 
and  they  dressed  in  black,  both  women  and  men,  the 
latter  wearing  a  bit  of  colour,  a  bright  red  sash  around 
the  waist.  The  women's  kerchiefs  even  were  black. 
And  then  the  men  had  such  a  despicable  way  of  wear- 
ing their  hair,  cut  straight  off  just  above  the  shoulders, 
and  standing  out  around  the  head  like  a  huge  mop.  But 
it  was  not  for  their  looks  that  I  disliked  them  so  much  as 
it  was  their  habits  and  customs.  They  ate  dogs,  for 
one  thing;  they  pretended  to  be  faithful  and  zealous 
members  of  the  Church,  but  were  the  worst  set  of  liars 
and  thieves  that  ever  travelled  across  the  plains;  they 
hated  the  Americans  as  much  as  they  did  the  English, 
and  in  their  vile  bastard  French  cursed  us  until,  one  day, 
I  could  stand  it  no  longer.  I  jumped  over  the  counter 
and  struck  one  of  them,  a  fellow  named  Amiott,  a  sting- 
ing blow  in  the  cheek  which  sent  him  sprawling  to  the 
floor,  and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  kicking  him 
when  he  was  down.  ' '  That  is  for  your  low-down  cursing 
of  us,"  I  told  him.  "I  will  not  hear  any  more  of  it  in 
this  place.  If  you  don't  like  it,  you  and  the  others  here 
go  and  heel  yourselves  and  come  back." 


CREES  AND  RED  RIVERS  381 

Strange  to  say,  we  did  not  lose  any  trade  by  this. 
The  very  ones  I  had  called  down  remained  our  cus- 
tomers, and  quiet  ones  they  were,  too. 

Louis  Riel !  How  well  and  yet  how  little  I  knew  him, 
he  who  led  the  halfbreed  rebellion  of  1885  in  Canada,  you 
remember.  He  was  a  fine-looking  man,  even  if  his  bright 
black  eyes  were  a  bit  shifty  and  uncertain  in  their  gaze ; 
and  he  had  such  courtly  manners.  When  still  thirty 
or  forty  yards  away  he  would  remove  his  wide  sombrero 
with  a  grand  sweep  and  approach  you  bowing  and  smil- 
ing, and  filling  the  air  with  high-flown  compliments. 
He  had  a  fine  education ;  the  Jesuits  having  trained  him 
for  the  priesthood;  but  certain  lapses  had  prevented 
his  ordination.  It  was  his  education,  I  believe,  which 
caused  his  downfall,  for  he  overestimated  himself  and  his 
power.  Still,  I  was  never  able  to  determine  whether  he 
really  believed  in  his  cause  and  his  power  to  right  what 
he  called  the  wrongs  of  his  oppressed  and  defrauded 
people,  or  whether  he  got  up  the  row,  expecting  to  be 
bought  off  by  the  Canadian  Government  and  to  live  in 
wealth  ever  afterward.  Also,  it  may  be  that  in  his 
estimate  of  himself,  his  people,  and  his  position,  he  was 
mentally  unbalanced.  He  came  to  us  with  his  people 
from  the  plains  of  the  north  and  soon  got  into  Berry's 
good  graces,  for  he  was  an  exceedingly  smooth  and  per- 
suasive talker.  He  wanted  some  goods  on  credit  with 
which  to  trade  in  his  camp,  and  got  them.  We  kept  an 
open  account  with  him  for  nearly  two  years.  It  is  still 
open,  for  he  left,  vanished  between  sun  and  sun,  owing  a 
balance  of  seven  hundred  dollars. 

"Well,"  said  Berry,  "I  don't  know  but  what  we  are 
about  even.  He  must  have  bowed  to  us  about  seven 
hundred  times,  and  I  reckon  that  such  grand  and  low 
bows  as  those  are  worth  about  a  dollar  apiece." 


38a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Do  you  know,"  Riel  once  told  me, "these  people  of 
mine  are  just  as  were  the  children  of  Israel,  a  persecuted 
race  deprived  of  their  heritage.  But  I  will  redress  their 
wrongs;  I  will  wrest  justice  for  them  from  the  tyrant. 
I  will  be  unto  them  a  second  David.  Yes,  I  can  compare 
myself  to  the  great  leader  of  the  Jews.  I, too,  am  writing 
psalms.  Riding  at  the  head  of  our  column  I  think  them 
out,  and  by  the  evening  fire,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  put 
them  on  paper.  Some  day  I  shall  have  them  printed." 

None  of  the  Red  River  halfbreeds,  save  Riel,  had  the 
slightest  conception  of  the  power  of  the  Canadian,  and 
back  of  that,  the  English  people.  But  he  knew,  for  he 
had  been  eastward  to  Ottawa,  Montreal,  and  Quebec, 
and  from  his  reading  had  acquired  an  all-round  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  in  general.  Yet  there  at  our  place 
he  held  meeting  after  meeting  and  wrought  his  people 
up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enthusiasm,  telling  them  that 
the  Canadian- English  were  few  and  inexperienced,  and 
that  in  a  very  few  weeks  they  could  subdue  them  by 
force  of  arms.  Asked  for  our  opinion,  we  told  them  that 
they  had  no  earthly  chance  to  win,  and  so  did  a  Catholic 
priest,  Father  Scullin,  who  lived  with  us.  The  Bishop 
of  Edmonton  had  sent  him  there  to  look  after  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  the  different  tribes.  He  spoke  Cree, 
and  Blackfoot,  and  the  Canadian  French  fluently.  Had 
the  buffalo  lasted,  I  doubt  if  Riel  would  have  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  Red  Rivers  to  revolt.  But  when 
they  could  no  longer  live  by  the  chase,  and  began  to 
starve,  they  became  desperate  and  broke  out.  That 
was  four  years  after  the  matter  was  first  debated  there 
on  the  Missouri.  The  whole  body  of  them,  Crees  and 
Red  Rivers,  did  not  put  up  as  good  a  fight  as  a  handful 
of  Blackfeet  would  have  made,  and  Riel  was  tried, 
condemned,  and  hanged  for  treason. 


CREES  AND  RED  RIVERS  383 

Far  different  from  the  French  were  the  English  and 
Scotch  Red  River  breeds,  who  came  down  to  us.  They 
were  neither  negro-hued  nor  black-hearted  and  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  trade  and  associate  with  them.  The  women 
were  mostly  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  dames, 
and  the  mengreatmuscular.sturdyspecimensofmanhood, 
good  to  look  upon.  But  hold!  I  must  not  utterly  con- 
demn the  French  breed  women.  I  remember  that  some 
of  them  were  exceedingly  lovely,  even  in  the  sombre 
and  outlandish  garb  they  wore.  There  was  a  certain 
Amelie  X.,  for  instance,  whose  husband,  a  Frenchman, 
was  killed  in  a  buffalo  chase.  Every  young  French 
breed  in  camp  was  courting  her,  but  she  told  them  to  go 
about  their  business  and  leave  her  alone.  "I  don't 
want  no  more  French  mans,"  she  told  us.  "I  don't 
want  no  H'Injun,  no  H'Englis  mans.  I  want  Americane 
mans,  me." 

Long  John  Pape  and  Mike  Duval  fought  over  her,  and 
the  former  was  badly  whipped.  Mike  thought  then 
that  he  had  her  sure,  and  was  begging  her  to  name  the 
day,  when,  lo!  one  morning  Billy  Burns  walked  into  her 
cabin,  picked  her  up  in  his  arms  without  a  word,  and 
carrying  her  over  to  our  place  he  set  her  on  her  feet 
before  the  astonished  priest.  "Just  hitch  us  up,"  he 
said,  "and  be  quick  about  it." 

"I  won't!"  Amelie  screamed,  giving  him  a  resounding 
slap  in  the  face.  "I  won't!  Go  way  from  me,  you  bad 
mans!  Let  me  alone!" 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Billy,  "if  you  won't  of  course  you 
won't.  I  thought  you  kind  o'  liked  me." 

He  turned  away  abruptly  and  started  for  the  door, 
but  Amelie  ran  after  him  and  grasped  his  arm. 
"Come  back,  you  big  fools!"  she  commanded,  with  a 
stamp  of  her  pretty,  moccasined  foot.  "Come  back  I 


384  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Me,  h'I'm  only  make  it  joke;  course  I  marry  you;  you  got 
blue  h'eyes." 

They  stood  again  before  the  father;  "It's  a  go,  then?"  he 
asked  them.  It  was,  and  he  married  them  then  and  there. 

Such  a  blowout  as  there  was  that  night !  The  dancing 
and  drinking  were  something  to  be  remembered !  Long 
John  and  Duval  not  only  made  friends,  but  when  Nat- 
ah'-ki  and  I  looked  in  for  a  moment,  they  were  weeping 
on  each  other's  shoulders.  Billy  and  Amelie  had  fled. 
Having  provided  the  cabin,  the  musicians,  the  solid  and 
liquid  refreshments  for  the  party,  they  hitched  a  horse  to 
a  halfbreed  sled  and  sped  away  down  the  river  to  the 
camp  of  a  friend. 

The  buffalo  remained  in  our  vicinity  and  their  numbers 
did  not  seem  to  diminish,  although  a  daily  horde  of 
hunters  rode  out  to  slay  them.  I  went  once,  with  a 
number  of  the  Red  River  breeds.  We  sighted  a  herd 
soon  after  passing  the  rim  of  the  valley  and,  screened 
from  their  sight  by  a  sharp  rise  of  ground,  my  compan- 
ions dismounted,  removed  their  hats,  fell  upon  their 
knees,  crossed  themselves,  and  one  old  patriarch  offered 
up  a  long  prayer,  asking  for  successful  chase  and  that  no 
harm  befall  them  or  their  horses  in  the  run.  Then  they 
sprang  up  into  the  saddles  and  were  off,  quirting  their 
horses  madly  and  cursing  them  with  the  most  terrible 
oaths  at  their  command.  Some,  who  found  not  sufficient 
of  them  in  their  own  tongues,  swore  also  in  broken 
English. 

"Paul,"  I  said  to  one  of  them  after  the  run,  "had  you 
been  killed  in  the  chase,  where  would  your  soul  have 
gone?" 

"Why,  to  the  good  God,  most  certainement." 

"But  after  you  prayed  you  cursed  your  horse;  you 
used  terrible  oaths." 


CREES  AND  RED  RIVERS  385 

"Ah!  but  that  was  in  the  excitement;  to  speed  the 
ill-born  brute.  The  good  God  knows  I  meant  no  dis- 
respect ;  most  certainement.  My — what  you  call  him — 
soul  would  have  gone  to  the  pleasant  place." 

To  accommodate  the  Bloods,  and  a  large  camp  of  Red 
Rivers,  late  in  the  fall  we  established  a  branch  post  on 
Flat  Willow  Creek,  a  tributary  of  the  Musselshell.  I 
rode  over  there  several  times  during  the  winter,  through 
great  herds  of  buffalo,  and  antelope,  and  once  I  saw  a 
band  of  wild  horses,  wilder  by  far  than  the  game  with 
which  they  mingled.  Along  the  foot  of  the  Snowy 
Mountains,  in  which  the  Flat  Willow  has  its  source,  there 
were  immense  herds  of  elk  and  deer,  and  we  bought 
large  numbers  of  their  skins. 

I  think  that  the  Crees  and  Red  Rivers  loved  liquor 
more  than  any  other  people  I  met  on  the  plains.  The 
Blackfeet  liked  it,  but  not  well  enough  to  impoverish 
themselves  for  it.  The  former,  however,  would  sell  any- 
thing they  had  to  obtain  it,  even  their  women,  and  it 
was  rare  for  a  family  to  have  more  than  half  a  dozen 
horses.  Many  of  the  Crees  were  obliged  to  walk  when 
moving  camp,  packing  their  few  effects  on  dogs.  They 
were  not  lazy,  however,  and  killed  and  tanned  a  great 
many  robes  which  they  exchanged  for  liquor,  tea,  and 
tobacco,  seldom  buying  any  finery.  There  were  nights 
when  at  least  a  thousand  of  them  would  be  drunk  to- 
gether, dancing  and  singing  around  little  fires  built  down 
in  the  timber,  some  crying  foolishly,  some  making  love, 
others  going  through  all  sorts  of  strange  and  uncouth 
antics.  There  was  very  little  quarrelling  among  them, 
not  half  a  dozen  being  killed  in  the  whole  winter.  More 
than  that  number  froze  to  death,  falling  on  their  way  in 
the  night  and  being  unable  to  rise  and  go  on. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THB   LAST  OP  THB   BUFFALO 

WHEN  spring  came  the  Blackfeet  and  Bloods  moved 
back  into  Canada  in  order  to  get  their  treaty 
money  from  the  Government.  They  intended  to  return 
in  the  fall,  but  now  crossed  the  line  again.  The  Crees 
and  Red  Rivers  remained  with  us.  Our  trade  for  the 
season  footed  up  four  thousand  buffalo  robes  and  about 
an  equal  number  of  deer,  elk,  and  antelope  skins.  For 
the  robes  we  received  $28,000,  for  the  skins,  some  beaver 
and  wolf  pelts  about  $5,000  more.  That  was  our  banner 
season,  and  the  biggest  one  Berry  had  ever  experienced. 
It  was  remarkable  in  that  it  occurred  when  the  buffalo 
were  so  near  extermination. 

We  were  looking  forward  to  a  quiet  summer,  as  usual, 
when  orders  came  from  the  Sioux  Agency  Indian  traders 
of  Dakota,  and  from  firms  in  the  Northwest  Territory 
of  Canada  for  pemmican  and  dried  meat.  The  letters 
all  had  the  same  story  to  tell,  "The  buffalo  are 
gone,"  they  said.  "Send  us  as  many  tons  of  the 
stuff  as  you  can  for  our  trade."  The  Crees  and  their  half 
brothers  were  happy  when  we  told  them  that  we  would 
buy  all  they  could  bring  us,  and  they  lost  no  time  in 
beginning  to  hunt.  Everything  went  that  was  meat — 
poor  cows,  old  bulls,  and  perhaps  crippled  horses.  The 
meat  was  dried  in  wide,  thin,  flat  sheets,  and  done  up  in 
rawhide- thonged  bales.  Pemmican  was  made  by  pound- 
ing the  dried  meat  into  fragments  and  mixing  it  with 
tallow  and  grease  extracted  from  the  animals'  bones. 

386 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BUFFALO  387 

It  was  packed  into  green  hide,  flat,  oblong  bags,  and  the 
covering  shrunk  so  tightly  over  the  mass  as  it  dried  that 
a  package  of  it  had  the  solidity  and  weight  of  a  rock.  I 
do  not  remember  how  much  of  the  stuff  we  got  during  the 
summer,  literally  cords  and  cords  of  the  dried  meat  and 
hundreds  of  bags  of  pemmican,  all  of  which  we  sold  at  a 
good  profit. 

There  came  to  our  place  one  day  in  midsummer  a  tall, 
slender  man,  who  from  his  face  and  the  black,  sharp- 
ended,  up-curling  moustache  he  wore,  reminded  one  of 
pictures  of  the  old-time  Spanish  cavaliers.  He  spoke 
English,  pure  English,  much  better,  indeed,  than  that 
of  any  white  man  around,  better  than  many  West  Point 
graduates  of  the  army.  He  introduced  himself  as 
William  Jackson.  The  name  seemed  familiar,  but  I 
could  not  place  him  until  he  said  that  he  was  sometimes 
called  Sik-si-ka'-kwan — Blackfoot  Man.  Then  I  knew. 
How  often  I  had  heard  old  man  Monroe  mention  him,  his 
favourite  grandson ;  his  bravery  and  kindness  of  heart. 
I  couldn't  help  shaking  hands  with  him  and  saying,  "I 
have  long  hoped  to  meet  you,  Sik-si-ka'-kwan;  your 
grandfather  has  told  me  much  about  you."  Well,  we 
became  lasting  friends;  friends  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
and  I  hope  that  together  we  accomplished  some  measure 
of  good  in  penance  for  our  many  sins. 

No  one  can  make  me  believe  that  there  is  nothing  in 
heredity.  There  was  Jackson,  for  instance.  On  his 
mother's  side,  he  came  from  the  Monroes,  a  notedly 
brave  family  of  Scotch  Highlanders,  and  from  the  La 
Roches,  a  noble  French  family,  some  of  whom  early 
emigrated  to  America.  His  father,  Thomas  Jackson, 
had  taken  part  in  the  Seminole  and  other  Indian  wars  of 
1832;  his  great  grandfathers  on  both  sides  had  fought 
in  the  Revolution.  No  wonder,  then,  that  he  took  to 


38S  ,  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

war  as  a  profession,  enlisting  at  an  early  age  as  scout  in 
the  United  States  army. 

The  summer  previous  to  his  enlistment  he  made  a 
name  for  himself  by  killing  three  Sioux.  He  and  his 
mother  went  berrying  in  the  breaks  of  the  river  north 
of  Fort  Union,  and  when  four  or  five  miles  away  they 
saw  five  Sioux  sneaking  down  on  them,  following  a  deep 
coulee  running  parallel  with  the  ridge  upon  which  they 
were  riding.  The  Sioux  were  just  entering  a  big  thicket 
and  imagined  that  they  and  their  horses  had  not  been 
seen.  Jackson  kept  on  a  little  way,  gradually  riding  off 
to  the  west  side  of  the  ridge  and  out  of  sight  of  the 
enemy.  Then  he  told  his  mother  what  he  had  seen, 
made  her  take  his  horse,  which  was  the  stronger  and 
swifter  of  the  two,  and  told  her  to  ride  back  to  the  Fort 
for  help  as  swiftly  as  she  could.  She  cried  and  objected, 
saying  that  if  he  was  to  be  killed  she  wanted  to  die  with 
him.  But  he  finally  assured  her  that  he  could  take  care 
of  himself  for  a  time  and  she  started  back  as  fast  as  the 
horse  could  run.  Jackson  at  once  went  up  to  the  top 
of  the  ridge,  peering  over  it  very  carefully.  In  a  moment 
the  Sioux  mounted  and  burst  out  of  the  brush  full  tilt 
after  his  mother.  There  was  his  chance,  and  kneeling 
to  get  a  more  steady  aim,  he  fired  his  Henry  rifle  a  num- 
ber of  times,  dropping  two  of  the  enemy.  But  that  did 
not  stop  the  others,  who  came  swiftly  up  the  ridge,  so 
he  mounted  his  horse  and  took  the  back  trail.  One 
of  the  horses  the  Sioux  rode  proved  to  be  a  better  animal 
than  his,  the  other  two  not  so  swift.  The  rider  of  the 
former  kept  gaining  on  him,  firing  his  muzzle-loader  as 
fast  as  he  could,  and  Jackson  kept  shooting  back  at 
short  intervals,  failing  also  to  hit  his  foe.  Finally, 
when  the  Sioux  had  lessened  the  gap  between  them  to 
about  a  hundred  yards,  Jackson  stopped  his  horse,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BUFFALO  389 

jumping  off,  knelt  down  and  took  a  careful  aim  at  his 
pursuer.  He  must  have  been  a  very  brave  Sioux,  as 
he  never  stopped,  but  whipped  his  horse  harder  than 
ever.  Jackson  fired  twice  at  him;  the  second  shot  hit 
him  fairly  in  the  breast  and  he  instantly  rolled  off  to  the 
ground,  where  he  lay  perfectly  still.  Then  Jackson 
remounted  and  rode  on,  the  remaining  two  Sioux  pur- 
suing him  for  a  half-mile  or  so,  when  they  stopped, 
seemed  to  talk  together  for  a  moment,  and  turned  back 
to  take  care  of  their  dead. 

Jackson  was  a  favourite  with  the  army  officers, 
especially  Generals  Custer  and  Miles.  On  the  morning 
of  the  battle  of  the  Little  Big  Horn,  June  25,  1876,  he, 
with  the  other  scouts,  was  detailed  to  accompany 
Major  Reno.  Had  they  accompanied  Custer,  they 
would  have  undoubtedly  shared  his  fate.  As  it  was, 
they  did  what  they  could — at  the  expense  of  the  lives 
of  most  of  them — to  save  Reno  and  his  command  from 
utter  annihilation,  for  when  the  Sioux  charged,  they 
held  their  ground  for  a  time,  to  give  the  soldiers  a  chance 
to  retreat  across  the  river  and  up  on  the  hill,  where  they 
were  nearly  overcome  several  times  by  the  enemy. 
Jackson  was  finally  cut  off  from  the  command  with 
Lieutenant  DeRudio,  Interpreter  Girard,  and  a  soldier. 
They  lay  in  the  thick  brush  all  that  day  and  the  next, 
and  then  when  evening  came  Jackson  ventured  out, 
took  sufficient  leggings  and  blankets  from  the  enemy 
lying  about,  and  when  they  had  dressed  themselves  in 
the  leggings  and  moccasins,  and  wrapped  blankets 
about  themselves,  he  led  them  right  through  the  watch- 
fires  of  the  Sioux  to  their  comrades  up  on  the 
hill.  Only  once  were  they  accosted.  "Who  goes 
there?"  asked  someone  sitting  by  a  small  fire  roast- 
ing meat. 


390  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

Jackson,  who  spoke  Sioux  perfectly,  replied,  "It  is 
only  us,  we're  going  over  here  a  little  way." 

"Well,  go  where  you're  going,"  said  their  questioner. 
"I'm  going  to  sit  right  here  and  eat  some  meat." 

At  the  time  he  came  to  the  store  at  Carrol,  Jackson 
was  trading  with  the  Indians  out  near  the  Judith  Moun- 
tains. I  was  sorry  to  part  with  him.  I  hardly  expected 
to  meet  him  again,  but  I  did  some  years  afterward  on 
the  reservation  where  all  the  "squaw  men,"  as  we  were 
called,  were  driven  by  the  tenderfeet,  the  "pilgrims," 
with  their  five-cent  ways  of  doing  business. 

Winter  came  again,  and  the  Crees  and  Red  River 
breeds  were  still  with  us,  but  the  buffalo  were  not  so 
plentiful  as  they  had  been  the  previous  winter.  Their 
range  was  also  smaller,  extending  from  the  mouth  of 
Judith  River  eastward  to  the  Round  Butte,  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Missouri,  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles,  and  back  from  the  river  not  more 
than  forty  miles.  They  were  far  more  plentiful  on  the 
south  side,  between  the  Missouri  and  the  Yellowstone, 
but  so  were  the  hunters.  They  were  hemmed  in  on  the 
east  by  the  Assiniboins  and  Yanktonai  Sioux,  on  the 
south  by  the  Crows,  and  a  horde  of  white  skin-hunters 
that  the  Northern  Pacific,  then  being  constructed  along 
the  Yellowstone,  had  brought  into  the  country.  In  the 
midst  of  the  herds  were  our  Crees  and  Red  Rivers. 
The  white  hunters  were  the  most  destructive  of  all,  and 
piled  up  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  buffalo  hides 
along  the  Yellowstone  that  winter,  which  they  sold  for 
about  two  dollars  each  to  Eastern  tannery  buyers.  We 
got  twenty-seven  hundred  robes,  about  a  thousand  deer, 
antelope,  and  elk  skins,  and  the  rest  of  the  traders  along 
the  river,  all  told,  had  about  as  many  more.  Most  of 
the  robes  we  got  were  killed  in  the  early  part  of  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BUFFALO  391 

winter.  As  the  season  advanced  the  hunters  had  to  ride 
farther  and  farther  to  find  the  game.  There  was  no 
doubt  but  that  the  end  of  the  trade  was  near. 

In  February  we  ran  short  of  trade  blankets,  and  I 
went  to  a  trading  post  up  at  the  mouth  of  the  Judith 
after  more,  taking  Nat-ah'-ki  with  me.  The  river  was 
solidly  frozen,  so  we  took  that  route,  each  driving  a  pony 
hitched  to  a  Red  River  sled.  It  was  pleasant,  travelling 
up  the  familiar  river  over  the  smooth  ice.  The  weather 
was  not  too  cold,  and  it  neither  blew  nor  snowed.  We 
travelled  the  first  day  to  the  foot  of  the  Dauphin  Rapids, 
and  camped  in  the  cabin  of  some  "  woodhawks, "  tem- 
porarily absent.  They  had  left  the  latch-string  out  and 
a  notice  on  the  rude  table  which  read:  "Make  yourself 
to  hum,  stranger,  an'  shet  the  door  when  you  leeve." 

We  did  make  ourselves  "to  hum."  Nat-ah'-ki 
cooked  a  good  meal  in  the  hearth,  and  then  we  sat  long 
before  the  pleasant  fire  in  the  most  comfortable  of  chairs. 
They  were  merely  green  buffalo  hides  stretched  over  a 
pole  frame  work,  but  they  had  been  used  as  the  skins 
dried  and  fitted  perfectly;  every  part  of  the  body  had 
just  the  proper  support. 

The  next  day  we  reached  our  destination,  and  on  the 
following  one  started  homeward  with  our  loads  of  blan- 
kets. It  was  about  four  in  the  afternoon  that  we  saw 
some  buffalo  scurrying  southward  across  the  river,  and 
heard  some  firing  back  in  the  breaks.  A  little  later 
we  saw  a  large  camp  of  Indians  file  down  into  a  bottom 
below  us.  I  was  not  a  little  uneasy  at  first,  for  I  feared 
that  they  might  be  Assiniboins,  and  they  had  recently 
killed  a  woodhawk,  and  committed  other  depredations 
along  the  river.  I  stopped  my  horse  and  asked  Nat-ah'- 
ki  what  we  had  best  do,  drive  on  as  rapidly  as  possible 
or  stop  and  camp  with  them.  She  gazed  at  them 


392  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

intently  for  a  moment ;  they  were  already  pitching  their 
lodges,  and  a  painted  lodge-skin  was  just  then  elevated 
and  spread  around  the  poles.  "Oh!"  she  cried,  with 
a  happy  catch  of  the  breath  which  was  almost  a  sob, 
"Oh,  they  are  our  people.  See!  that  is  the  buffalo 
medicine  lodge  they  have  put  up.  Hurry!  let  us  go 
over  to  them." 

They  were  indeed  some  of  the  Piegans  under  Red 
Bird's  Tail,  with  whom  we  camped  that  night.  They 
were  as  pleased  to  meet  us  as  we  were  them,  and  it  was 
far  into  the  night  when  we  reluctantly  went  to  bed,  the 
supply  of  lodge  fuel  having  given  out.  "We  are  near 
the  end  of  it,"  Red  Bird's  Tail  said  to  me.  "We  have 
hunted  far  this  winter,  along  Milk  River,  in  the  Wolf 
Mountains  (Little  Rockies),  and  now  over  here  on  the 
Big  River,  and  we  have  just  about  had  meat  enough  to 
eat.  Friend,  I  fear  that  this  is  our  last  buffalo  hunt." 

I  told  him  of  the  conditions  south  and  east  of  us,  that 
there  were  no  buffalo  anywhere,  except  the  few  between 
us  and  the  Yellowstone,  and  even  there  no  herds  of 
more  than  a  hundred  or  so,  "Are  you  sure,"  he  said; 
"sure  that  the  white  men  have  seen  all  the  land  which 
they  say  lies  between  the  two  salt  waters?  Haven't 
they  overlooked  some  big  part  of  the  country  where  our 
buffalo  have  congregated  and  from  whence  they  may 
return?" 

"There  is  no  place  in  the  whole  land,"  I  replied, 
"north,  south,  east,  or  west,  that  the  white  men  have 
not  travelled,  are  not  travelling  right  now,  and  none  of 
them  can  find  buffalo.  Do  not  believe,  as  many  of  your 
people  do,  that  they  have  driven  them  away  in  order  to 
deprive  you  of  your  living.  White  men  are  just  as 
anxious  to  kill  buffalo  for  their  hides  and  meat  as  you 
are.' 


Erecting  the  Medicine  Lodge 


The  Medicine  Lodge 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BUFFALO  393 

"Then,  that  being  the  case,"  he  said  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "misery  and  death  are  at  hand  for  me  and  mine. 
We  are  going  to  starve." 

On  our  way  homeward  the  next  morning,  I  saw  a 
lone  buffalo  calf — almost  a  yearling  then — standing 
dejectedly,  forlornly,  in  a  clump  of  rye  grass  near  the 
river.  I  killed  it,  and  took  off  the  hide,  horns,  hoofs, 
and  all.  The  Crow  Woman  tanned  it  for  me  later  and 
decorated  the  flesh  side  with  gaudy  porcupine  quill 
work.  That  was  my  last  buffalo.  Along  in  the  after- 
noon we  startled  something  like  seventy-five  head  which 
had  come  to  the  frozen  stream  in  search  of  water.  They 
scampered  wildly  across  the  bottom  and  up  the  slope  of 
the  valley  to  the  plains.  That  was  the  last  herd  of  them 
that  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  ever  saw. 

The  little  woman  and  I  had  been  homesick  for  some 
time.  While  we  loved  the  great  river,  its  lovely  valley 
and  fantastic  "bad  lands,"  we  did  not  like  the  people 
temporarily  there.  We  were  ever  talking  and  dream- 
ing of  our  home  on  the  Marias,  and  so  one  May  morning, 
we  embarked  on  the  first  boat  of  the  season  for  Fort 
Benton,  and  thence  to  Fort  Conrad.  And  thus  we  bade 
good-bye  forever  to  the  old  plains'  life  and  the  buffalo 
and  the  Indian  trade. 

Berry  soon  followed  us,  leaving  a  man  in  charge  of 
our  place,  which  we  ran — at  a  loss — for  another  year, 
getting  only  three  hundred,  mostly  bull  robes,  the  last 
winter,  1882-3, 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
THE  "WINTER  OP  DEATH" 

summer  days  slipped  by  happily  for  all  of  us. 
A  Berry's  mother  and  the  Crow  Woman  made  them- 
selves a  little  garden,  where  the  Marias  and  its  Dry  Fork 
join,  irrigating  it  with  water  carried  from  the  river. 
Their  corn  and  pumpkins  and  beans,  all  of  the  stock 
which  the  natives  had  cultivated  long  before  Columbus 
saw  America,  grew  apace.  The  old  women  erected  a 
shelter  hard  by  their  thriving  plants,  a  roof  of  brush 
supported  by  four  posts;  and  there  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I 
spent  many  a  pleasant  afternoon  with  them,  listening 
to  their  quaint  tales,  and  the  still  more  quaint  songs 
which  they  occasionally  sung.  Early  in  the  spring, 
Berry  had  again  torn  up  the  earth  with  his  bulls  and 
plows,  and  sown  it  with  oats  and  wheat.  Strange  to 
say — for  it  was  again  a  dry  year — they  grew  and  ripened, 
and  were  harvested  and  stacked,  but  never  marketed. 
The  pigs  undermined  the  stacks,  cattle  and  horses  broke 
through  the  corral  and  trampled  them,  and  all  went  to 
waste.  We  were  no  farmers  whatever. 

All  summer  we  had  Piegans  with  us  from  time  to 
time,  and  they  told  harrowing  tales  of  hard  times  up  at 
their  Agency.  The  weekly  rations,  they  said,  lasted 
but  one  day.  There  was  no  game  of  any  kind  to  be 
found;  their  Agent  would  give  them  nothing.  Those 
with  us  and  scattered  along  the  river,  by  hard  hunting 
found  deer  and  antelope  enough  to  keep  themselves 
alive,  but  those  remaining  at  the  Agency  actually 

394 


THE  "WINTER  OF  DEATH"  395 

suffered  for  want  of  food.  They  were  the  ones  who 
could  not  get  away.  They  had  lost  their  horses  through 
a  skin  disease  which  had  spread  among  the  herds,  or 
had  sold  them  to  the  trader  for  provisions. 

In  September  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  went  up  to  the  Agency 
to  see  for  ourselves  what  was  the  condition  of  affairs. 
Arriving  at  the  main  camp,  just  below  the  Agency  stock- 
ade, at  dusk,  we  stopped  with  old  Lodge-pole  Chief  for 
the  night.  "Leave  our  food  sacks  with  the  saddles," 
I  said  to  Nat-ah'-ki,  "we  will  see  what  they  have  to 
eat." 

The  old  man  and  his  wives  welcomed  us  cordially. 
"Hurry,"  he  commanded  the  women,  "cook  a  meal 
for  our  frien  3s.  They  must  be  hungry  after  their  long 
ride."  He  spoke  as  if  the  lodge  was  filled  with  provi- 
ions.  He  smiled  happily  and  rubbed  his  hands  to- 
gether as  he  talked.  But  his  wives  did  not  smile,  nor 
hurry.  From  a  parfleche  they  brought  forth  three 
small  potatoes  and  set  them  to  boil,  and  from  another 
one,  two  quarter-pound  trout,  which  they  also  boiled. 
After  a  time  they  set  them  before  us.  "  'Tis  all  we  have," 
said  one  of  the  women,  pathetically,  brushing  the  tears 
from  her  eyes.  "  'Tis  all  we  have.  We  are  very 
poor." 

At  that  poor  old  Lodge-pole  Chief  broke  down.  "It 
is  the  truth,"  he  said,  haltingly.  "We  have  nothing. 
There  are  no  more  buffalo,  the  Great  Father  sends  us 
but  a  little  food — gone  in  a  day.  We  are  very  hungry. 
There  are  fish  to  be  sure,  forbidden  by  the  gods,  unclean. 
We  eat  them,  however,  but  they  do  not  give  us  any 
strength,  and  I  doubt  not  that  we  will  be  punished  for 
eating  them.  It  seems  as  if  our  gods  had  forsaken  us." 

Nat-ah'-ki  went  out  and  brought  back  one  of  our  food 
sacks  and  handed  to  the  women  three  or  four  tins  of 


396  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

beans,  corned  beef  and  corn,  some  sugar,  coffee,  and 
flour.  To  the  old  man  she  gave  a  piece  of  tobacco.  Ah ! 
how  their  faces  brightened!  How  they  talked  and 
laughed  as  they  cooked  and  ate  a  good  meal.  It  was  a 
pleasure  to  watch  them. 

The  next  day  we  rode  to  the  various  camps  and  found 
the  same  conditions  in  each.  Not  what  one  could  call 
actual  starvation,  but  something  very  near  it;  so  near 
it  that  the  most  vigorous  of  the  men  and  women  showed 
the  want  of  food.  They  appealed  to  me  for  help,  and 
I  gave  freely  what  I  had ;  but  that  of  course  was  a  mere 
nothing,  as  compared  to  their  needs.  Nat-ah'-ki's 
mother  had  been  long  in  one  of  the  camps,  caring  for  a 
sick  relative,  now  dead.  We  rescued  her  from  the  place 
of  famine  and  made  our  way  back  to  the  Fort. 

After  a  talk  with  Berry,  I  determined  to  write  a  full 
account  of  what  I  had  seen  on  the  Reservation,  and  this 
I  did,  sending  it  to  a  certain  New  York  paper  for  publi- 
cation. I  wanted  the  American  people  to  know  how 
their  helpless  wards  were  being  used.  I  knew  that  some 
good  people  somewhere,  would  take  the  matter  up  and 
see  that  sufficient  food  was  sent  them  to  keep  soul  and 
body  together.  My  contribution  was  never  printed.  I 
was  a  subscriber  to  the  paper,  and  scanned  its  columns 
for  weeks  and  months  after  I  had  sent  in  my  registered 
manuscript.  Alas!  I  did  not  then  know  how  much 
politics  affected  even  such  an  ordinary  position  as  Indian 
Agent,  and  especially  at  that  time,  when  the  "Indian 
Office"  was  in  the  hands  of  a  "ring."  I  had  sent  my 
story  to  the  paper  which  was  the  mainstay  of  the  Ad- 
ministration. Of  course,  they  would  not  print  it,  and  I 
gave  up.  Both  Berry  and  I  advised  the  Indians  to  kill 
their  Agent,  and  see  if  that  would  not  awaken  people  to 
their  necessities;  but  they  were  afraid  to  do  it;  they 


THE  "WINTER  OF  DEATH"  397 

remembered  the  Baker  massacre.  I  know  now  where 
I  could  have  sent  that  story,  whence  it  would  have  been 
scattered  broadcast  throughout  the  land;  but  I  was 
young,  and  easily  discouraged,  and  so  matters  drifted  and 
drifted  along  from  bad  to  worse.  Not  many  of  the 
people  died  during  the  winter  from  actual  want. 

Summer  came.  The  Agent  gave  out  a  few  potatoes 
to  the  Indians  to  plant.  Some  actually  did  plant  them; 
others  were  so  hungry  that  they  ate  what  was  given  them. 
Also,  in  the  early  spring  they  scraped  the  inner  bark  of 
pine  and  cottonwood,  and  dug  "pomme  blanche,"  a 
tuberous  growth  something  like  a  turnip,  for  food. 
Then  came  fishing  time,  and  they  caught  trout.  Some- 
how they  got  through  the  summer,  and  then  came 
winter  again,  the  starvation  winter,  the  winter  of  death, 
as  it  was  called,  and  from  which  ever  afterward  every- 
thing was  dated.  In  his  annual  report  of  the  summer, 
the  Agent  had  written  at  great  length  about  the 
heathenish  rites  of  his  people,  but  had  said  little  of  their 
needs.  He  told  of  the  many  hundred  acres  they  had 
planted  with  potatoes  and  turnips — they  may  have 
planted  five  acres  all  told.  In  fact,  he  gave  no  hint  of  the 
approaching  calamity.  For  years  in  his  annual  report 
he  had  recorded  a  constant  increase  in  the  tribe's  re- 
sources; he  would  not  now,  it  seemed,  take  back  his 
words  and  make  himself  out  a  liar.  It  had  been  through 
his  own  single,  strenuous  efforts  that  the  Blackfeet  had 
risen  to  their  present  stage  of  civilisation,  "but  their 
heathenish  rites  were  most  deplorable." 

Early  in  the  fall,  about  fifty  lodges  of  people  came 
down  and  remained  with  us.  There  were  still  a  few 
antelope,  but  when  they  failed  to  make  a  successful  hunt, 
we  gave  them  from  what  we  had.  None  of  them  perished. 
But  up  at  the  Agency,  as  January  and  February  passed, 


398  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

the  situation  was  terrible.  Old  Almost-a-dog,  day  after 
day,  by  ones  and  twos  and  threes,  checked  off  the  deaths 
of  the  starved  ones.  Women  crowded  around  the 
windows  of  the  Agent's  office,  held  up  their  skinny 
children  to  his  gaze,  and  asked  for  a  cup  of  flour  or  rice 
or  beans  or  corn — anything,  in  fact,  that  would  appease 
hunger.  He  waved  them  away!  "Go,"  he  would 
say  surlily  "Go  away!  Go  away!  I  have  noth- 
ing for  you."  Of  course  he  hadn't.  The  $30,000 
appropriated  for  the  Blackfeet  had  disappeared — some- 
where, I  suppose.  The  Indian  ring  got  a  part,  and  the 
rest,  from  which  must  be  subtracted  a  freight  tariff  of 
5  cents  per  pound,  was  used  to  buy  many  unnecessary 
things.  Beef  and  flour  were  what  the  people  needed, 
and  did  not  get.  In  one  part  of  the  stockade  the  Agent 
kept  about  fifty  chickens,  a  couple  of  tame  wild  geese  and 
some  ducks,  which  were  daily  fed  an  abundance  of  corn, 
freighted  all  the  way  from  Sioux  City  up  to  Fort  Benton 
by  steamboat,  and  then  more  than  a  hundred  miles 
overland,  for  the  use  of  the  Indians.  The  corn  was 
Government  property,  which,  by  law,  the  Agent  could 
neither  buy  nor  in  any  way  convert  to  his  own  use. 
Nevertheless,  he  fed  it  liberally  to  his  hens,  and  the  In- 
dian mothers  stood  around  mournfully  watching,  and 
furtively  picking  up  a  kernel  of  the  grain  here  and  there. 
And  day  by  day  the  people  died.  There  were  several 
thousand  pounds  of  this  grain,  but  the  chickens  needed  it. 
The  news  of  all  this  did  not  reach  us  until  February, 
when  Wolf  Head  came  in  one  day  riding  the  sorriest 
looking  horse  I  ever  saw.  It  had  a  little  hair  in  places, 
the  skin  along  the  back  was  wrinkled,  and  here  and  there 
had  been  deeply  frozen.  "There  are  not  many  of  them 
up  there  that  look  better,"  said  Wolf  Head,  sadly. 
"  Most  of  our  herds  are  dead."  And  then  he  went  on  to 


THE  "WINTER  OF  DEATH"  399 

tell  of  the  starving  and  dying  people.  Long  before  he 
had  finished,  Nat-ah'-ki  began  to  cry,  and  so  did  the 
Crow  Woman,  who  was  the  only  one  of  the  others  present. 
But  while  they  cried,  they  were  quickly  heating  some 
food  and  coffee,  which  they  placed  on  the  table  before 
Wolf  Head  and  told  him  to  eat.  Never  in  my  life  did 
I  see  food  disappear  so  quickly,  in  such  huge  portions.  I 
arose  after  a  little  and  took  the  different  things  away. 
"You  shall  have  them  later,"  I  said.  The  women  pro- 
tested until  I  convinced  them  that  starving  people  some- 
times die  when  given  much  food  after  their  long  fast.  In 
the  evening  our  place  was  well  filled  with  the  Indians  from 
camp,  and  Wolf  Head  repeated  what  he  had  told  us  of 
the  suffering  and  dying  people.  He  named  some  of  the 
dead,  and  one  by  one  some  of  the  listeners  stole  away  to 
mourn  for  relatives  they  had  lost.  Here,  there,  sitting 
on  the  frozen  ground  or  bank  of  the  river  they  wailed, 
calling  over  and  over  the  loved  one's  name.  The  sound 
of  it  was  so  distressing,  so  nerve-racking,  that  I  felt  like 
going  out  and  asking  them  to  desist  and  go  home.  But 
I  could  not  do  it.  It  was  their  way,  their  ancient  way, 
of  expressing  their  sorrow.  What  right  had  I  to  inter- 
fere; of  what  account  were  my  nerves  beside  their  sor- 
rows? 

When  Wolf  Head  ended  his  harrowing  tale,  for  a  time 
all  the  men  sat  very  still,  not  even  smoking,  and  then 
they  began,  one  by  one,  to  heap  such  curses  on  their 
Agent  and  white  men  in  general  as  their  language  per- 
mitted. Berry  and  I  listened  in  silence ;  we  knew  they 
did  not  mean  us — we  knew  that  they  regarded  us  as 
members  of  their  tribe,  their  very  own  people.  But  we 
were  nevertheless  ashamed  before  them,  sore  that  the 
cupidity  and  carelessness  and  lust  for  land  of  the  white 
race  had  brought  them  and  theirs  to  this  pass.  After 


400  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

talk  had  somewhat  drifted  into  half  silences,  Berry  said 
what  he  could  in  the  way  of  condolence,  adding,  "We 
told  you  months  ago  to  kill  that  Agent  of  yours.  Had 
you  done  that,  there  would  have  been  a  great  excitement 
where  the  white  people  live,  and  men  would  have  been 
sent  here  to  look  into  the  matter.  They  would  have 
learned  that  you  were  without  food,  and  a  plenty  would 
have  been  sent  to  you." 

I  said  nothing.  A  thought  had  suddenly  struck  me 
which  I  at  once  put  into  execution.  I  sat  down  and 
wrote  a  letter  to  a  New  York  gentleman  with  whom  I  had 
had  some  correspondence,  but  had  never  met,  explaining 
fully  the  sad  plight  the  Blackfeet  were  in.  I  can't  say  why  I 
wrote  to  him,  but  I  believe  that  fate  directed  me,  for  my 
story  in  due  time  reached  a  sympathetic  hand,  and  I  was 
told  to  go  on  up  to  the  Agency  and  write  an  account  of 
what  I  saw  there.  Unknown  to  me  this  gentleman  had 
ridden  several  trails  in  the  West,  and  had  formed  a 
different  opinion  of  Indians  from  what  most  white  men 
have.  In  time  he  became  what  may  be  called  an  honor- 
ary member  of  the  Blackfeet,  the  Pawnees,  the  Chey- 
ennes,  and  other  Northern  tribes.  The  Fisher  Cap,  as 
the  Blackfeet  call  him,  has  done  more  for  them  than  all 
the  different  "Indian  Rights,"  "Indian  Aid"  societies 
put  together.  He  has  rid  them  of  thieving  agents; 
helped  them  to  get  good  ones;  to  get  full  value  for  the 
lands  they  have  been  obliged  to  sell;  accompanied  their 
delegations  to  Washington,  and  stood  by  them  in  their 
petitions  to  the  Indian  Office. 

Well,  I  saddled  a  horse  and  rode  up  to  the  Agency. 
Not  exactly  to  it,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  get  my  friends  into 
trouble.  The  Indian  Police  had  been  ordered  by  the 
Agent  to  arrest  every  white  man  they  found  on  the 
Reservation.  If  I  rode  right  into  the  stockade,  the 


THE  "WINTER  OF  DEATH"  401 

Police  would  have  to  arrest  me  or  resign,  and  I  wished 
none  of  them  to  leave  the  service,  for  the  Agent  gave 
them  plenty  of  food  for  themselves  and  families.  There- 
fore, I  rode  from  one  camp  to  another  for  a  day,  and 
what  I  saw  was  heart-rending.  I  entered  and  sat  down 
in  the  lodges  of  friends  with  whom  I  had  feasted  not  so 
long  since  on  boiled  buffalo  tongues  and  ribs,  on  rich 
pemmican  and  other  good  things  of  the  plains.  Their 
women  were  mostly  sitting  gazing  hopelessly  at  the  fire, 
and  upon  seeing  me  drew  their  old,  thin  robes  about  them, 
to  hide  their  rent  and  worn-out  dresses.  And  the  men! 
There  was  no  hearty,  full- voiced  "Ok'-yi!"  from  them. 
They  spoke  the  word  of  welcome  of  course,  but  in  a  low 
key,  and  their  eyes  could  not  meet  mine,  for  they  were 
ashamed.  There  was  nothing  in  the  lodge  to  eat,  and 
the  greatest  of  humiliations  to  a  Blackfoot  is  to  be  unable 
to  set  out  a  little  feast  for  his  visitors.  But  when  I  be- 
gan to  speak  about  their  predicament,  they  roused  up 
quickly  enough  and  spoke  of  their  suffering  children  and 
wives,  and  of  the  deaths,  and  sometimes  as  they  talked 
a  woman  would  begin  to  sob  and  go  out;  one  who  had, 
perhaps,  lost  a  child  of  her  own.  It  was  all  very  sad. 

Leaving  the  camps  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Agency,  I 
rode  over  to  Birch  Creek,  the  southern  boundary  of  the 
Reservation,  where  there  was  a  small  camp.  I  found 
the  people  there  slightly  better  off.  A  few  range  cattle 
were  wintering  in  the  vicinity,  and  the  hunters  occa- 
sionally went  out  in  the  night  and  killed  one,  so  thor- 
oughly covering  up  or  removing  all  traces  of  blood  and 
offal  that  had  one  ridden  by  the  next  day  he  would  never 
have  suspected  what  had  been  done  there  but  a  few 
hours  before.  It  has  always  been  a  heinous  offence  to 
kill,  rebrand,  or  maverick  cattle  in  the  range  country, 
and  the  Indians  knew  it,  hence  their  caution.  The 


402  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

cattlemen  knew  of  course  that  their  herds  were  growing 
smaller,  but  they  could  prove  nothing,  so  they  merely 
damned  the  Indians  and  talked  about  "wiping  them  off 
the  face  of  the  earth."  Even  that  last  remnant  of  the 
Blackfeet's  once  vast  territory,  their  Reservation,  was 
coveted  by  the  great  cattle  kings  for  many  years,  and, 
as  you  shall  learn  later,  they  eventually  got  the  run  of  it, 
after  surreptitiously  fattening  upon  it,  in  connivance 
with  various  agents,  thousands  of  beeves  for  the 
Chicago  market. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

r 

THE  "BLACK  ROBE'S"  HELP 

DURING  my  visits  to  the  various  camps,  I  bad 
heard  much  of  a  certain  Black  Robe  or  priest, 
whom  the  people  called  Stahk'-tsi  kye-wak-sin — Eats- 
in-the-middle-of-the-day.  "He  is  a  man,"  the  people 
told  me,  "a  real  kind-hearted  man.  Twice  the  Agent 
has  ordered  him  off  of  the  reservation,  but  he  returns  to 
talk  with  us,  and  help  us  as  he  can." 

I  learned  that  he  had  built  a  Nat-o-wap'-o-yis,  or 
sacred  house,  on  the  non-reservation  side  of  Birch  Creek, 
and  thither  I  went  after  visiting  the  last  of  the  camps. 
I  found  the  Rev.  P.  P.  Prando,  S.  J.,  at  home  in  his  rude 
shed-like  room,  attached  to  the  little  log  chapel,  and 
there  we  two  struck  up  a  fine  friendship,  which  was  never 
broken.  I  am  not  a  religious  man — far  from  it;  that 
is  as  to  a  belief  in  a  revealed  religion  and  some  certain 
creed.  But  how  I  do  admire  these  Jesuits.  They 
have  always  been  at  the  front  here  in  America;  have 
suffered  hardships,  cold  and  heat,  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  gone  through  such  dangers  as  the  representatives 
of  no  other  creed  have  done.  Nothing  has  daunted  them 
in  their  zeal  to  propagate  their  faith  in  wild  and  savage 
lands.  There  was  Father  De  Smet,  for  instance,  who 
ascended  the  Missouri  in  1840,  and  established  a  mission 
among  the  Flathead  Indians.  You  should  read  his 
story.  He  crossed  the  Rockies,  of  course,  to  reach  the 
Flathead  country,  and  then  he  made  a  trip  with  my  old 
friend,  Hugh  Monroe,  among  the  Blackfeet  on  the  east 

403 


404  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

side  of  the  Rockies,  during  which  they  had  several  nar- 
row escapes  from  Assiniboin  and  Yanktonai  war 
parties.  But  the  Father  found  conditions  unfavourable 
for  founding  a  mission  among  the  Blackfeet,  for  they 
were  forever  roaming  over  their  vast  hunting  ground, 
one  winter  on  the  Saskatchewan,  for  instance,  and 
the  next  far  to  the  south  on  the  tributaries  of  the 
Missouri  or  the  Yellowstone. 

Father  Prando  made  me  welcome;  made  me  know 
that  I  was  welcome,  and  I  stopped  with  him  for  the  night. 
We  had  supper;  some  yeast-powder  biscuits,  rancid 
bacon,  some  vile  tea,  no  sugar.  "It  is  all  I  have,"  he 
said,  deprecatingly,  "but  what  would  you?  I  have 
given  a  little  here,  and  a  little  there,  and  this  is  all  that 
remains." 

Even  that  was  better  than  I  had  found  for  several 
days,  and  I  ate  a  number  of  the  biscuits.  We  began  to 
talk  about  the  starving  Indians,  and  I  learned  with  sur- 
prise and  pleasure,  that  the  good  Father  had  been  try- 
ing for  some  time  to  obtain  relief  for  them.  He  had 
written  to  the  authorities  in  Washington,  without  result. 
Then  he  had  corresponded  with  the  army  officers  at  Fort 
Shaw,  especially  with  Colonel — now  General — Edward 
A.  Maule,  and  they  had  accomplished  something.  Re- 
porting to  the  War  Department  the  condition  of  the 
Blackfeet,  there  had  been  a  lively  scene  between  the 
officials  of  that  and  the  Indian  Department,  with  the 
result  that  an  inspector  was  to  be  sent  out.  He  was 
supposed  even  then  to  be  on  his  way.  "And  now," 
the  good  Father  concluded,  "it  all  depends  upon  the 
inspector.  If  he  be  honest,  all  will  be  well ;  if  dishonest, 

then "  his  voice  trembled,  and  he  could  say  no 

more. 

It  seemed  that  there  was  nothing  more  for  me  to  do,  so 


THE  "BLACK  ROBE'S"  HELP  405 

I  started  homeward  by  way  of  the  Agency.  When 
nearing  the  stockade,  I  met  a  policeman,  and  his  face 
was  one  big  broad  smile.  "Yesterday,"  he  told  me, 
"came  a  man  from  the  home  of  the  Great  Father,  and 
we  are  saved.  I  carry  this  letter  from  him  to  the  sol- 
diers; they  are  to  bring  us  food;"  and  with  that  he 
hurried  on. 

Down  at  the  trader's  store  (it  contained  about  a 
wagon  load  of  goods)  I  at  last  got  the  details  of  all  that 
had  happened.  I  am  sure  that  never  before,  nor  since, 
has  the  Indian  service  had  a  more  efficient  man 
than  was  Inspector,  or  Special  Agent,  G.  Arrived  at 
the  stockade,  he  had  the  driver  stop  just  within  the 
gates.  "Where  is  that  chicken  house?"  he  yelled, 
jumping  from  the  wagon  and  staring  at  the  gaunt  forms 
of  the  Indians,  standing  apathetically  around.  The 
driver  pointed  it  out  to  him,  and  he  ran  and  kicked  open 
the  door,  shoved  the  chickens  out  and  piled  out  after 
them  several  sacks  of  corn.  "Here,  you,"  he  called  to 
the  astonished  spectators,  "take  these ;  take  the  chickens 
and  go  and  eat  something." 

If  the  Indians  did  not  understand  the  words,  they  at 
least  understood  his  actions — and  what  a  scramble 
there  was  for  grain  and  fleeing,  squawking  hens.  The 
Inspector  hurried  on  across  to  the  office,  kicked  open  the 
door  and  came  face  to  face  with  the  Agent,  who  had 
arisen,  and  was  staring  at  him  in  astonishment.  "You 

canting  old  hypocrite,"  he  cried,  "I've 

just  given  your  Indians  those  chickens,  and  some  Gov- 
ernment corn.  What  do  you  mean  by  denying  that  your 
charges  are  starving?  Hey?  What  do  you  mean,  sir?" 

"They  are  not  starving,"  the  Agent  replied.  "I  will 
admit  that  they  haven't  a  large  ration,  but  they  are  not 
starving  by  any  means.  Not  starving  by  any  means, 


4o6  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

sir.  But  who  are  you,  sir?  What  right  have  you, 
breaking  in  here  and  questioning  me?" 

"Here  is  my  card,"  the  Inspector  replied  "and  I'll 
just  add  that  I  suspend  you  right  now.  Your  goose  is 
cooked." 

The  agent  read  the  card  and  sank  back  into  his  chair, 
speechless. 

The  Inspector  drew  on  the  Fort  Shaw  commissary  for 
what  supplies  could  be  spared,  and  bought  more  at 
Helena,  but  they  were  a  long,  long  time  in  coming. 
Owing  to  the  melting  spring  snow,  the  roads  were  al- 
most impassable,  so,  still  for  a  few  weeks,  Almost-a-dog 
kept  cutting  notches  in  his  willow  mortuary  record,  and 
at  the  end,  after  a  bountiful  supply  of  food  had  arrived 
and  a  new  and  kind  and  honest  Agent  was  looking  out 
for  their  welfare,  the  total  numbered  five  hundred  and 
fifty-five!  Nearly  one-fourth  of  the  tribe  had  passed 
away.  The  living,  weakened  by  their  long  privation, 
became  an  easy  prey  to  tuberculosis  in  its  various  forms. 
To-day  there  are  but  thirteen  hundred  full-blooded 
Blackfeet,  seven  hundred  less  than  there  were  in  1884. 
They  are  going  fast;  they  might  as  well,  for  there  is  no 
place  left  for  them  to  abide  in  even  comparative  pros- 
perity and  peace.  Since  1884,  they  have  sold  three 
million  dollars'  worth  of  land,  and  the  money  has  mostly 
been  used  to  purchase  for  them  food,  farm  machinery, 
and  cattle.  Under  the  few  good  Agents  they  have  had 
they  did  remarkably  well.  For  instance,  under  one 
Agent  who  served  two  terms,  their  cattle  increased  to 
something  like  twenty-four  thousand  head,  for  he  al- 
lowed them  to  sell  only  steers  and  old  dry  cows.  Un- 
der a  succeeding  Agent,  however,  their  fine  herd  prac- 
tically disappeared.  Cows,  calves,  yearlings,  were 
bought  by  the  trader,  rebranded  and  driven  to  his 


THE  "BLACK  ROBE'S"  HELP  407 

range  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Bear's  Paw  Mountains.  Also, 
the  Reservation  was  always,  except  during  the  short 
administration  of  an  army  officer,  over-run  with  the 
stock  of  the  great  cattle  kings.  Their  round-ups  drove 
away  many  of  the  Indian  stock,  the  vast  number  of 
steers  they  kept  shoving  upon  the  reserve  caused  the 
grass  to  become  more  and  more  sparse.  To-day,  I  am 
told,  the  range  is  about  gone,  and  the  Indians  are  about 
to  receive  their  allotments  of  land.  When  that  happens 
and  the  surplus  land  is  opened  to  settlement,  the  sheep- 
men will  drive  their  flocks  upon  it,  and  thereafter  the 
Blackfeet  will  be  unable  to  raise  either  horses  or  cattle. 
In  a  very  few  years,  those  once  richly  grassed  hills  will  be- 
come as  bare  of  verdure  as  is  the  middle  of  a  country  road. 

I  could  not  help  but  go  back  to  tell  the  good  Father 
that  his  efforts  to  aid  the  Indians  had  proved  more  than 
successful,  and  thus  I  stayed  another  night  with  him. 
He  told  me  of  his  work  with  the  Crows,  among  whom 
he  had  been  for  several  years,  long  enough,  in  fact,  to 
learn  their  language.  Like  most  of  those  frontier 
Jesuits,  he  could  do  things:  He  had  a  good  knowledge 
of  medicine  and  surgery.  He  could  build  a  log  cabin; 
repair  a  broken  wagon  wheel ;  survey  and  construct  an 
irrigating  ditch ;  and  he  was  a  successful  fisherman  and 
good  shot.  I  came  across  him  one  afternoon  away  down 
on  Milk  River.  He  had  been  visiting  some  distant  par- 
ishioners, and  had  tethered  out  his  horses  for  a  short 
rest.  He  was  broiling  something  over  a  small  fire,  and 
looking  up,  invited  me  to  alight  and  eat  with  him. 
"It  is  a  badger,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  just  killed." 

"But,"  I  expostulated,  "they  are  not  good  to  eat. 
I  never  heard  of  anyone  eating  badgers,  did  you?" 

"My  son,"  he  replied,  deliberately  turning  the  meat 
over  the  glowing  coals,  "everything  that  God  has  made, 


4o8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

has  some  use,  if  we  could  only  discern  it.  This  badger 
now,  He  made  it;  I  am  very  hungry;  therefore,  I  broil 
its  meat — I  killed  it  and  it  is  mine — and  I  shall  satisfy 
my  hunger." 

"But  see  here!"  I  went  on,  dismounting  and  sitting 
down  by  his  fire,  "When  you  are  travelling  around  this 
way,  why  don't  you  have  a  well-filled  'grub'  box  in  your 
wagon?" 

"I  had;  there  is  the  box,  you  see;  but  save  for  a 
little  salt  and  pepper,  it  is  now  empty.  The  people  I 
visited  were  very  poor,  and  I  gave  them  all." 

There  you  have  it  in  a  word.  They  gave  them  all, 
those  Jesuits  of  the  frontier.  All  their  strength  and 
endurance,  bodily  and  mental;  gave  even  the  necessities 
of  life,  in  their  zeal  to  "  gather  the  heathen  into  the  shelter 
of  the  Cross."  This  same  man,  at  the  age  of  sixty,  have 
I  not  known  him  more  than  once  to  start  out  at  dusk 
and  drive  all  night  through  a  forty-degrees- below  bliz- 
zard, to  reach  the  bedside  of  some  dying  Indian  who 
had  sent  for  him  to  administer  the  last  sacrament! 

"Mistaken  zeal,"  "folly,"  many  of  us  may  say. 
Well,  granting  that,  yet  must  we  still  regard  with  rever- 
ence and  something  akin  to  awe,  the  men  who  dare  all 
things,  endure  all  things,  for  the  faith  that  is  in  their 
hearts. 

But  to  continue  my  story:  Arrived  home,  I  stabled 
my  horse,  and  went  to  my  room  to  hang  up  my  shaps 
and  spurs.  I  found  Nat-ah'-ki  in  bed,  her  eyes  swollen 
with  weeping;  and  when  she  saw  me,  she  sprang  up 
and  clung  to  me  crying:  "They  are  dead,  both  dead! 
My  daughter,  my  handsome  daughter,  Always  Laughs; 
they  two  who  loved  each  other  so  much,  both  are  dead! 
Both  drowned  in  the  every wheres  water."  * 

•  M o-to-yt-atuk-hi— The  Ocean 


THE  "BLACK  ROBE'S"  HELP  409 

And  then  she  told  me,  little  by  little,  as  she  could  be- 
tween her  fits  of  sobbing,  of  what  Berry  had  read  in  the 
newspaper  received  that  morning.  Ashton's  boat  had 
foundered  in  a  great  storm,  and  all  on  board  were  lost.  I 
sought  out  Berry,  and  he  handed  me  the  paper  in  silence. 
It  was  all  too  true.  We  were  never  again  to  see  Ashton 
and  Diana.  Their  yacht,  and  all  it  held,  lay  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

That  was  a  sad  time  for  us  all.  Berry  and  his  wife 
went  to  their  room.  Old  Mrs.  Berry  and  the  Crow 
Woman  were  mourning  and  crying,  away  down  by  the 
river.  I  went  back  to  comfort  Nat-ah'-ki  if  I  could, 
and  the  men  cooked  their  supper.  I  talked  long,  far 
into  the  night  with  the  little  woman,  saying  all  I  could, 
everything  I  could  think  of,  to  allay  her  grief — and  my 
own  too;  but  in  the  end,  it  was  she  who  solved  the  prob- 
lem, in  a  way.  I  had  thrown  another  chunk  or  two  on 
the  fire,  and  leaned  back  in  my  chair.  She  had  been 
silent  some  little  time.  "Come  here,"  she  finally  said. 
So  I  went  over  and  sat  down  beside  her,  and  she  grasped 
my  hand  with  her  own  trembling  one. 

"I  have  been  thinking  this,"  she  began,  falteringly; 
but  her  voice  became  firmer  as  she  went  on,  "This: 
They  died  together,  didn't  they  ?  Yes.  I  think  that 
when  they  saw  that  they  must  drown,  they  clung  to 
one  another,  and  said  a  few  words,  if  they  had  time,  and 
even  kissed  each  other,  no  matter  if  there  were  other 
people  there.  That  is  what  we  would  have  done,  is  it 
not?" 

"Yes." 

"Well  then,"  she  concluded,  "it  isn't  so  bad  as  it 
might  have  been,  for  one  was  not  left  to  mourn  for  the 
other.  We  must  all  die  sometime,  but  I  think  the 
Sun  and  the  white  man's  God  favour  those  whom — 


4io  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

loving  each  other  as  they  did — they  permit  to  die 
that  way." 

She  got  up,  and  removing  from  wall  and  shelf  various 
little  gifts  Diana  had  given  her,  packed  them  carefully 
away  in  the  bottom  of  a  trunk.  "  I  cannot  bear  to  look 
at  them  now,"  she  said  sadly,  "but  some  day,  when  I 
am  more  used  to  it,  I  will  take  them  out  and  set  them 
in  their  places." 

She  went  back  to  bed  and  fell  asleep,  while  I  sat 
long  after  by  the  waning  fire,  thinking  much  upon  her 
words.  More  and  more,  as  the  years  went  by,  I  realised 
that  Nat-ah'-ki  was — well,  I'll  not  say  what  I  thought. 
Perhaps  some  of  you,  of  sympathetic  nature,  can  fill  in 
the  blank. 

It  was  several  years  before  Diana's  gifts  again  took 
their  place  in  our  abode  to  delight  the  eye  and  the  mind 
of  the  dwellers  therein.  But  many  a  time  did  I  see 
Nat-ah'-ki  quietly  take  a  picture  of  her  daughter  from 
the  trunk,  and,  after  gazing  at  it  lovingly,  go  away  by 
herself  to  mourn. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

LATER    YEARS 

'TpHE  very  last  of  the  buffalo  herds  disappeared  in 
A       1883.     In  the  spring  of  1 884  a  large  flotilla  of  steam- 
boats was  tied  up  at  the  Fort  Benton  levee ;  among  them 
the  "Black  Hills"  and  "Dacotah,"  boats  of  great  size 
and  carrying  capacity.     The  latter  came  up  but  once  in  a 
season — when  the  Missouri  was  bank  full  from  the  melt- 
ing snow  in  the  mountains — and  this  was  their  last  trip 
for  all  time  to  come.     Not  only  was  it  the  last  trip  for 
them,  but  for  all  the  smaller  boats.     The  railroad  was 
coming.     It  had  already  crossed  Dakota,  and  was  creep- 
ing rapidly  across  the  Montana  plains.     Tying  up  at 
night,  using  enormous  quantities  of  wood  fuel  in  order  to 
overcome  the  swift  current  of  the  Missouri,  the  steam- 
boats could  not  compete  with  the  freight  carrier  of  the  rails. 
When  the  railroad  did  finally  enter  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain country,  a  branch  running  to  Fort  Benton,  Great 
Falls,  Helena,  and  Butte,  the  main  line  crossing  the 
divide  through  the  Two  Medicine  Pass,  it  brought  in  its 
coaches  many  immigrants  from  the  "States,"  at  whom 
the  old-timers  laughed.     "What  are  they  coming  here 
for?"  they    asked.     "What    are    they    going   to    do—- 
these hard-hatted  men  and  delicate  looking  women?" 

They  soon  found  out.  The  new-comers  settled  here 
and  there  in  the  valleys,  and  took  up  the  available  water 
rights;  they  opened  stores  in  the  towns  and  crossroads 
places  and  reduced  prices  to  a  five-cent  basis;  they  even 
gave  exact  change  in  pennies.  Heretofore  a  spool  of 

411 


4ia  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

thread,  even  a  lamp-wick,  had  been  sold  for  two  bits. 
The  old  storekeepers  and  traders,  with  their  easy,  liberal 
ways,  could  not  hold  their  own  in  this  new  order  of 
things;  they  could  not  change  their  life-long  habits, 
and  one  by  one  they  went  to  the  wall. 

The  men  married  to  Indian  women — squawmen,  as 
they  were  contemptuously  called — suffered  most,  and, 
strange  to  say,  the  wives  of  the  new-comers,  not  the  men, 
were  their  bitterest  enemies.  They  forbade  their 
children  to  associate  with  the  half-breed  children,  and 
at  school  the  position  of  the  latter  was  unbearable.  The 
white  ones  beat  them  and  called  them  opprobrious  names. 
This  hatred  of  the  squawman  was  even  carried  into 
politics.  One  of  them,  as  clean-minded,  genial,  fearless, 
and  honest  a  man  as  I  ever  knew,  was  nominated  for 
sheriff  of  the  county  upon  the  party  ticket  which  always 
carried  the  day ;  but  at  that  election  he  and  he  alone  of 
all  the  candidates  of  his  party  was  not  elected.  He 
was  actually  snowed  under.  The  white  women  had  so 
badgered  their  husbands  and  brothers,  had  so  ve- 
hemently protested  against  the  election  of  a  squawman 
to  any  office,  that  they  succeeded  in  accomplishing  his 
defeat.  And  so,  one  by  one,  these  men  moved  to  the 
only  place  where  they  could  live  in  peace,  where  there 
was  not  an  enemy  within  a  hundred  and  more  miles  of 
them,  the  Reservation;  and  there  they  settled  to  pass 
their  remaining  days.  There  were  forty-two  of  them  at 
one  time;  few  are  left. 

Let  me  correct  the  general  impression  of  the  squaw- 
men,  at  least  as  to  those  I  have  known,  the  men  who 
married  Blackfeet  women.  In  the  days  of  the  Indians' 
dire  extremity,  they  gave  them  all  they  could,  and  were 
content  so  long  as  there  remained  a  little  bacon  and 
flour  for  their  families;  and  some  days  there  was  not 


LATER  YEARS  413 

even  that  in  the  houses  of  some  of  them,  for  they  had 
given  their  all.  With  the  Indian  they  starved  for  a  time, 
perchance.  Scattered  here  and  there  upon  the  Reser- 
vation, they  built  for  themselves  neat  homes  and  corrals, 
and  fenced  their  hay  lands,  all  of  which  was  an  object 
lesson  to  the  Indian.  But  they  did  more  than  that. 
They  helped  to  build  their  red  neighbours'  cabins  and 
stables;  surveyed  their  irrigating  ditches;  taught  them 
howto  plough,  and  to  manage  a  mowing  machine.  All  this 
without  thought  of  pay  or  profit.  If  you  enter  the  home 
of  a  Blackfoot,  you  nearly  always  find  the  floor  clean, 
the  windows  spotless,  everything  about  in  perfect  order, 
the  sewing  machine  and  table  covered  with  pretty  cloths; 
the  bed  with  clean,  bright-hued  blankets;  the  cooking 
utensils  and  tableware  spotless  and  bright.  No  Govern- 
ment field-matrons  have  taught  them  to  do  this,  for  they 
have  had  none.  This  they  learned  by  observing  the  ways 
of  the  squawmen's  wives.  I  have  seen  hundreds  of 
white  homes — there  are  numbers  of  them  in  any  city — 
so  exceedingly  dirty,  their  inmates  so  slovenly,  that  one 
turns  from  them  in  absolute  disgust;  but  I  have  seen 
nothing  like  that  among  the  Blackfeet. 

In  their  opulent  days,  under  a  good  agent,  and  when 
they  had  numbers  of  steers  to  sell,  they  bought  much 
furniture,  even  good  carpets.  There  came  to  me  one  day 
at  that  time  a  friend,  and  we  smoked  together.  "You 
have  a  book  with  pictures  of  furniture,"  he  said,  "show 
me  the  best  bedstead  it  tells  about." 

I  complied.  "There  it  is,"  pointing  to  the  cut.  "All 
brass,  best  of  springs;  price  $80." 

"Send  for  it,"  he  said,  "I  want  it.  It  costs  only  two 
steers,  and  what  is  that?" 

"There  are  others,"  I  went  on,  "just  as  good  looking, 
part  iron,  part  brass,  which  cost  much  less." 


4i4  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"Huh!"  he  exclaimed.  "Old  Tail-feathers-coming- 
over- the-hill  has  one  that  cost  fifty  dollars.  I'm  going 
to  have  the  best." 

Without  the  squawman,  I  do  not  know  what  the 
Blackfeet  would  have  done  in  the  making  of  their  treaties 
with  the  Government;  in  getting  rid  of  agents,  of  whom 
the  less  said  the  better — for  the  squawman  fought  their 
battles  and  bore  the  brunt  of  all  the  trouble.  I  have 
known  an  agent  to  order  his  police  to  kill  a  certain  squaw- 
man on  sight, because  the  man  had  reported  to  Washing- 
ton his  thievery ;  and  others  to  order  squawmen  to  leave 
the  Reservation,  separating  them  from  their  families, 
because  they  had  spoken  too  openly  regarding  certain 
underhand  doings.  But  at  intervals  there  were  good, 
honest,  capable  men  in  charge,  under  whom  the  Indians 
regained  in  a  measure  the  prosperity  they  had  lost.  But 
such  men  did  not  last;  with  a  change  of  administration 
they  were  always  dismissed  by  the  powers  that  be. 

One  thing  the  squawmen  never  succeeded  in  doing — 
they  were  never  able  to  rid  the  Reservation  of  the  great 
cattle  kings'  stock.  The  big  men  had  an  "understand- 
ing" with  some  agents,  and  at  other  times  with  certain 
politicians  of  great  influence.  So  their  stock  remained 
and  increased  and  fed  down  the  rich  grasses.  Most  of 
the  Indians  and  most  of  the  squawmen  carefully  tended 
their  little  herds  in  some  favourable  locality  as  near  as 
possible  to  their  homes;  but  always,  once  in  the  spring, 
once  in  the  fall,  the  great  round-up  of  the  cattle  kings 
swept  like  wild  fire  across  the  Reservation.  Thirty  or 
forty  swift  riders  would  swoop  down  on  one  of  these  little 
herds.  Some  of  their  cattle  would  be  mixed  in  with 
them;  but  they  did  not  stop  to  cut  them  out;  there 
wasn't  time;  and  they  drove  them  all  to  some  distant 
point  or  branding  corral,  and  the  owner  of  the  little  herd 


LATER  YEARS  415 

lost  forever  more  or  less  of  them.  At  last,  so  I  am  told, 
the  Indians  prevailed  upon  the  Department  to  fence  the 
south  and  east  sides  of  the  Reservation  in  order  to  keep 
the  foreign  stock  out,  and  their  own  inside.  There  was 
no  need  of  fencing  the  west  and  north  sides,  for  the 
Rocky  Mountains  form  the  western  boundary,  and  the 
Canadian  line  the  northern.  It  cost  $30,000  to  build 
that  fence,  and  then  the  cattle  kings  obtained  permission 
to  pasture  30,000  head  of  cattle  within  it.  But  perhaps 
it  is  as  well.  It  is  only  hastening  the  end  a  bit,  for  the 
Blackfeet,  as  I  have  said  before,  are  to  have  their  lands 
allotted.  Then  will  come  the  sheepmen,  desolation  in 
their  wake,  and  then  the  end.  It  has  been  nearly  the 
end  for  them  this  past  winter.  The  Department  decreed 
that  no  able-bodied  person  should  receive  rations.  In 
that  bleak  country  there  is  no  chance  of  obtaining  work, 
for  the  white  men's  ranches  are  few  and  far  between. 
Even  if  a  man  obtained  three  months'  work  in  summer 
time — something  almost  impossible — his  wages  could  not 
by  any  means  support  his  family  for  a  year.  A  friend 
wrote  me  in  January:  "I  was  over  on  the  Reservation 
to-day  and  visited  many  old  friends.  In  most  of  the 
homes  there  was  little,  generally  no  food,  and  the  people 
were  sitting  sadly  around  the  stove,  drinking  wild  tea." 

In  the  hegira  of  the  old-timers  to  the  Reservation, 
Berry  and  I  took  part.  Fort  Conrad  had  been  sold. 
Berry  bought  out  the  Reservation  trader,  goodwill  and 
goods,  for  three  hundred  dollars. 

I  got  an  insane  idea  in  my  head  that  I  wanted  to  be 
a  sheepman,  and  locating  some  fine  springs  and  hay 
ground  about  twelve  miles  above  Fort  Conrad,  I  built 
some  good  sheds,  and  a  house,  and  put  up  great  stacks  of 
hay.  The  cattlemen  burned  me  out.  I  guess  they  did 
right,  for  I  had  located  the  only  water  for  miles  around. 


416  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

I  left  the  blackened  ruins  and  followed  Berry.  I  am  glad 
that  they  did  burn  me  out,  for  I  thus  can  truthfully  say 
that  I  had  no  part  in  the  devastation  of  Montana's  once 
lovely  plains. 

We  built  us  a  home,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I,  in  a  lovely 
valley  where  the  grass  grew  green  and  tall.  We  were 
a  long  time  building  it.  Up  in  the  mountains  where  I  cut 
the  logs,  our  camp  under  the  towering  pines  was  so 
pleasant  that  we  could  hardly  leave  it  for  a  couple  of 
days  to  haul  home  a  wagon-load  of  material.  And  there 
were  so  many  pleasant  diversions  that  the  axe  leaned  up 
against  a  stump  during  long  dreamy  days,  while  we  went 
trout  fishing,  or  trailed  a  deer  or  bear,  or  just  remained 
in  camp  listening  to  the  wind  in  the  pine  tops,  watching 
the  squirrels  steal  the  remains  of  our  breakfast,  or  an 
occasional  grouse  strutting  by. 

"How  peaceful  it  all  is  here,"  Nat-ah'-ki  once  said, 
"How  beautiful  the  pines,  how  lovely  and  fragile  the 
things  that  grow  in  the  damp  and  shadowy  places.  And 
yet,  there  is  something  fearsome  about  these  great 
forests.  My  people  seldom  venture  into  them  alone. 
The  hunters  always  go  in  couples  or  three  or  four  together, 
the  women  in  large  numbers  when  they  come  to  cut 
lodge  poles,  and  their  men  always  with  them." 

"But  why  are  they  afraid?"  I  asked.  "I  don't  see 
why  they  should  be." 

"There  are  many  reasons,"  she  replied.  "Here  an 
enemy  can  easily  lie  in  wait  for  one  and  kill  without  risk 
to  himself.  And  then — and  then  they  say  that  ghosts 
live  in  these  long,  wide,  dark  woods;  that  they  follow  a 
hunter,  or  steal  along  by  his  side  or  in  front  of  him ;  that 
one  knows  they  are  about,  for  they  sometimes  step  on  a 
stick  which  snaps,  or  rustle  some  loose  leaves  with  their 
feet.  Some  men,  it  is  said,  have  even  seen  these  ghosts 


LATER  YEARS  417 

peering  at  them  from  behind  a  distant  tree.  They  had 
terrible,  big,  wide  faces,  and  big,  wicked  eyes.  Some- 
times I  even  have  thought  that  I  was  being  followed 
by  them.  But,  though  I  was  terribly  afraid,  I  have  just 
kept  on  going,  away  down  there  to  the  spring  for  water. 
It  is  when  you  are  away  off  there  chopping  and  the  blows 
of  your  axe  cease,  that  I  am  most  afraid.  I  stop  and 
listen;  if  you  begin  to  chop  again  soon,  then  all  is  well, 
and  I  go  on  with  my  work.  But  if  there  is  a  long  silence 
then  I  begin  to  fear,  I  know  not  what;  everything; 
the  dim  shadowy  places  away  out  around;  the  wind  in 
the  tree-tops  which  seems  to  be  saying  something  I 
cannot  understand.  Oh,  I  become  afraid,  and  I  steal 
out  to  see  if  you  are  still  there — if  anything  has  happened 
to  you " 

"Why — how  is  that?"  I  interposed,  "I  never  saw 
you." 

"No,  you  didn't  see  me.  I  went  very  quietly,  very 
cautiously,  just  like  one  of  those  ghosts  they  talk  about; 
but  I  always  saw  you.  You  would  be  sitting  on  a  log,  or 
lying  on  the  ground,  smoking,  always  smoking,  and  then 
I  would  be  satisfied,  and  go  back  as  quietly  as  I  came." 

"But  when  you  came  out  that  way,  why  didn't  you 
come  further  and  sit  down  and  talk  with  me  ? "  I  asked. 

"Had  I  done  so,"  she  replied,  "you  would  have  sat 
still  longer  idle,  smoked  more,  and  talked  of  those  things 
you  are  ever  dreaming  and  thinking  about.  Don't  you 
know  that  the  summer  is  nearly  gone?  And  I  do  so 
much  want  to  see  that  house  built.  I  want  to  have  a 
home  of  my  own." 

Thereupon  I  would  for  a  time  wield  the  axe  with  more 
vigour,  and  then  again  there  would  be  a  reaction — more 
days  of  idleness,  or  of  wandering  by  the  stream,  or  on 
the  grim  mountain  slopes.  But  before  snow  came  we 


4i8  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

had  our  modest  home  built  and  furnished,  and  were 
content. 

It  was  the  following  spring  that  Nat-ah'-ki's  mother 
died,  after  a  very  short  illness.  After  the  body  had 
been  wrapped  with  many  a  blanket  and  robe  and  securely 
bound  with  rawhide  thongs,  I  was  told  to  prepare  a 
coffin  for  it.  There  was  no  lumber  for  sale  within  a 
hundred  and  fifty  miles,  but  the  good  Jesuits,  who  had 
built  a  mission  nearby,  generously  gave  me  the  necessary 
boards  and  I  made  a  long,  wide  box  more  than  three  feet 
in  height.  Then  I  asked  where  the  grave  should  be  dug. 
Nat-ah'-ki  and  the  mourning  relatives  were  horrified. 
"What,"  the  former  cried  "bury  mother  in  a  hole  in  the 
dark,  heavy,  cold  ground? 

"No!  our  Agent  has  forbidden  burials  in  trees,  but 
he  has  said  nothing  about  putting  our  dead  in  coffins  on 
the  top  of  the  ground.  Take  the  box  up  on  the  side  of 
the  hill  where  lie  the  remains  of  Red  Eagle,  of  other  rel- 
atives, and  we  will  follow  with  all  the  rest  in  the  other 
wagon." 

I  did  as  I  was  told,  driving  up  the  valley  a  half-mile 
or  so,  then  turning  up  on  the  slope  where  lay  half  a 
dozen  rude  coffins  side  by  side  on  a  small  level  place.  Re- 
moving the  box  from  the  wagon,  I  placed  it  at  some 
little  distance  from  the  others  and  with  pick  and  spade 
made  an  absolutely  level  place  for  it.  Then  came  the 
others,  a  number  of  friends  and  relatives,  even  three 
men,  also  relatives  of  the  good  woman.  Never  before 
nor  since  have  I  known  men  to  attend  a  funeral  They 
always  remained  in  their  lodges  and  mourned;  so  this 
was  even  greater  proof  of  the  love  and  esteem  in  which 
Nat-ah'-ki's  mother  had  been  held. 

Nat-ah'-ki,  from  the  moment  her  mother  had  died, 
had  neither  slept  nor  partaken  of  food,  crying,  crying 


LATER  YEARS  419 

all  the  time.  And  now  she  insisted  that  none  but  she 
and  I  should  perform  the  last  ceremonies.  We  carried 
the  tightly  wrapped  body  and  laid  it  in  the  big  box,  very 
carefully  and  tenderly  you  may  be  sure,  and  then  placed 
at  the  sides  and  feet  of  it  various  little  buckskin  sacks, 
small  parfleche  pouches,  containing  needles,  awls, 
thread  and  all  the  various  implements  and  trinkets 
which  she  had  kept  and  guarded  so  carefully.  I  raised 
and  placed  in  position  the  two  boards  forming  the  cover. 
Everyone  was  now  crying,  even  the  men.  I  held  a  nail 
in  position,  and  drove  it  partly  down.  How  dreadfully 
they  sounded,  the  hammer  blows  hollowly,  loudly  rever- 
berating from  the  big,  half- empty  box.  I  had  kept  up 
thus  far  pretty  well,  but  the  cold,  harsh,  desecrating 
hammering  unnerved  me.  I  tossed  the  implement 
away,  sat  down,  and  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts  to  control 
myself,  I  cried  with  the  rest.  "I  cannot  do  it,"  I  said, 
over  and  over,  "I  cannot  drive  those  nails." 

Nat-ah'-ki  came  and  sat  down,  leaned  on  my  shoulder 
and  reached  out  her  trembling  hands  for  mine. 

"Our  mother!"  she  said,  "Our  mother!  just  think; 
we  shall  never,  never  see  her  again.  Oh,  why  must  she 
have  died  while  she  had  not  even  begun  to  grow  old?" 

One  of  the  men  stepped  forward,  "  Go  you  two  home," 
he  said,  "I  will  nail  the  boards." 

So,  in  the  gathering  dusk,  Nat-ah'-ki  and  I  drove 
home,  unhitched  the  horses  and  turned  them  loose; 
and  then  entering  the  silent  house  we  went  to  bed.  The 
Crow  Woman,  always  faithful  and  kind,  came  later,  and 
I  heard  her  build  a  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove.  Presently 
she  brought  in  a  lamp,  then  some  tea  and  a  few  slices  of 
bread  and  meat.  Nat-ah'-ki  was  asleep;  bending  over 
me  she  whispered;  "  Be  more  than  ever  kind  to  her  now, 
my  son.  Such  a  good  mother  as  she  had!  There  was 


MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 


not  one  quite  so  good  in  all  the  earth  ;  she  will  miss  her  so 
much.  You  must  now  be  to  her  both  her  man  and 
mother." 

"I  will,"  I  replied,  taking  her  hand.  "You  know 
that  I  will,"  whereupon  she  passed  as  silently  out  of 
the  room  and  out  of  the  house  as  she  had  come.  It  was 
a  long,  long  time  though  before  Nat-ah'-ki  recovered 
her  naturally  high  spirits,  and  even  years  afterward  she 
would  awake  me  in  the  night,  crying,  to  talk  about  her 
mother. 

Since  the  rails  of  the  great  road  had  crossed  the  land 
which  Big  Lake  had  said  should  never  be  desecrated 
by  fire-wagons,  I  thought  that  we  might  as  well  ride 
upon  them,  but  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  persuade 
Nat-ah'-ki  to  do  so.  But  at  last  she  fell  grievously  ill, 
and  I  prevailed  on  her  to  see  a  famous  physician  who 
lived  in  a  not  far  distant  city,  a  man  who  had  done  much 
for  me,  and  of  whose  wonderful  surgical  work  I  never 
tired  telling,  So,  one  morning  we  took  seats  in  the 
rear  Pullman  of  a  train  and  started,  Nat-ah'-ki  sitting 
by  the  open  window.  Presently  we  came  to  a  bridge 
spanning  an  exceedingly  deep  canon,  and  looking  down 
she  gave  a  little  cry  of  surprise,  and  terror,  dropped  to 
the  floor  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  I  got 
her  back  on  the  seat,  but  it  was  some  time  before  she 
recovered  her  composure.  "It  looked  so  awfully  far 
down  there,"  she  said,  "and  supposing  the  bridge  had 
broken,  we  would  all  have  been  killed." 

I  assured  her  that  the  bridges  could  not  break,  that 
the  men  who  built  them  knew  just  how  much  they  could 
hold  up,  and  that  was  more  than  could  be  loaded  on 
a  train.  Thenceforth  she  had  no  fear  and  loved  the 
swift  glide  of  a  train,  her  favourite  place  in  suitable 


LATER  YEARS  421 

weather  being  a  seat  out  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  last 
Pullman. 

We  hadn't  been  on  the  train  fifteen  minutes  when 
I  suddenly  realised  something  that  I  had  never  thought 
of  before.  Glancing  at  the  women  seated  here  and  there, 
all  of  them  dressed  in  neat  and  rich  fabrics,  some  of 
them  wearing  gorgeous  hats,  I  saw  that  Nat-ah'-ki  was 
not  in  their  class  so  far  as  wearing  apparel  was  concerned. 
She  wore  a  plain  gingham  dress,  and  carried  a  shawl 
and  a  sun-bonnet,  all  of  which  were  considered  very 
"  swell "  up  on  the  Reservation,  and  had  been  so  regarded 
in  the  days  of  the  buffalo  traders  at  Fort  Benton.  To 
my  surprise,  some  of  these  ladies  in  the  car  came  to 
talk  with  Nat-ah'-ki,  and  said  many  kind  things  to  her. 
And  the  little  woman  was  highly  pleased,  even  excited 
by  their  visits.  "Why,"  she  said  to  me  in  surprise,  "I 
did  not  think  that  white  women  would  speak  to  me. 
I  thought  they  all  hated  an  Indian  woman." 

"Many  do,"  I  answered,  "but  they  are  not  women 
of  this  class.  There  are  women,  and  women.  My 
mother  is  like  these  you  have  spoken  to.  Did  you  notice 
their  dresses?"  I  added.  "Well,  so  you  must  dress. 
I  am  glad  that  we  arrive  in  the  city  at  night.  You 
shall  be  dressed  like  them  before  we  go  to  the  hospital." 

Our  train  pulled  into  the  city  on  time,  and  I  hurried 
Nat-ah'-ki  into  a  cab,  and  thence  to  the  side  entrance 
of  a  hotel,  thence  upstairs  to  a  room  which  I  had  tele- 
graphed for.  It  was  a  Saturday  night  and  the  stores 
were  still  open.  I  found  a  saleswoman  in  a  department 
store  to  accompany  me  to  the  hotel  and  take  Nat-ah'-ki's 
measure.  In  a  little  while  we  had  her  fitted  out  with 
waists  and  skirts,  and  a  neat  travelling  coat.  How 
pleased  she  was  with  them,  and  how  proud  I  was  of  her. 
There  was  nothing,  I  thought,  good  enough  to  clothe 


42a  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

that  true  and  tried  little  body,  whose  candour,  and 
gentleness,  and  innate  refinement  of  mind  were  mir- 
rored in  her  eyes. 

We  had  dinner  in  our  room.  I  suddenly  remembered 
that  I  had  not  thought  of  one  article  of  costume,  a  hat, 
and  out  I  went  to  get  it.  In  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  I 
met  an  artist  friend,  and  besought  his  aid  in  selecting 
the  important  gear.  We  looked  at  about  five  hundred, 
I  thought,  and  at  last  decided  upon  a  brown  velvet 
thing  with  a  black  feather.  We  took  it  up  to  the  room 
and  Nat-ah'-ki  tried  it  on.  "  'Twas  too  small,"  we  all 
declared,  so  back  we  went  after  another  one.  There 
didn't  seem  to  be  any  larger  ones,  and  we  were  dis- 
couraged. "They  don't  fit  down,"  I  told  the  woman, 
"can't  be  made  to  fit  like  this,"  raising  my  hat  and 
jamming  it  down  in  place.  The  woman  looked  at  me 
in  astonishment.  "Why,  my  dear  sir!"  she  exclaimed, 
"Women  do  not  wear  their  hats  that  way.  They  place 
them  lightly  on  the  top  of  the  head,  and  secure  them 
there  with  large  pins,  hat  pins,  running  through  the  hair." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  I  said.  "That's  the  way,  is  it?  Well, 
give  us  back  the  hat  and  some  pins,  and  we'll  be  fixed 
this  time,  sure." 

But  we  weren't.  Nat-ah'-ki  wore  her  hair  in  two 
long  braids,  tied  together  and  hanging  down  her  back. 
There  was  no  way  of  skewering  that  hat  on,  unless  she 
wore  her  hair  pompadour,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  bunched 
up  on  top  of  the  head,  you  know,  and  of  course  she 
wouldn't  do  that.  Nor  did  I  wish  her  to;  I  liked  to  see 
those  great  heavy  braids  falling  down,  away  down 
below  the  waist. 

"I  have  it,"  said  my  friend,  who  had  ridden  some 
himself — in  fact,  had  been  a  noted  cowpuncher — "we'll 
just  get  a  piece  of  rubber  elastic  sewed  on,  like  the  string 


LATER  YEARS  423 

on  a  sombrero.  That  will  go  under  the  braids,  close  to 
the  skin,  and  there  you  are." 

The  store  was  just  closing  when  I  finally  got  the 
elastic,  some  thread  and  needles,  and  Nat-ah'-ki  sewed 
it  on.  The  hat  stayed.  One  could  hardly  knock  it  off. 
Tired  and  thirsty,  the  artist  and  I  withdrew  in  search 
of  a  long,  fizzing  drink,  and  Nat-ah'-ki  went  to  bed.  I 
found  her  wide  awake  when  I  returned.  "Isn't  this 
splendid!"  she  exclaimed,  "everything  as  one  could  wish 
it.  You  merely  push  a  little  black  thing  and  someone 
comes  up  to  wait  on  you,  to  bring  you  your  dinner,  or 
water,  or  whatever  you  want.  You  turn  faucets,  and 
there  is  your  water.  With  one  turn  you  make  the 
lightning-lamps  burn,  or  go  out.  It  is  wonderful,  won- 
derful. I  could  live  here  very  happily." 

"Is  it  better  than  the  neat  lodge  we  had,  when  we 
travelled  about,  when  we  camped  right  here  where  this 
city  stands  and  hunted  buffalo?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  she  cried,  "  it  is  not  like  those  dear,  dead, 
past  times.  But  they  are  gone.  Since  we  must  travel 
the  white  man's  road,  as  the  chiefs  say,  let  us  take  the  best 
we  can  find  along  the  way,  and  this  is  very  nice." 

In  the  morning  we  drove  to  the  hospital,  and  took  the 
elevator  to  the  floor  and  room  assigned  to  us.  Nat- 
ah'-ki  was  put  to  bed  by  the  Sisters,  with  whom  she 
immediately  became  infatuated.  Then  came  the  doctor. 
"It  is  he,"  I  told  her,  "the  one  who  saved  me." 

She  rose  up  in  bed  and  grasped  one  of  his  hands  in 
both  her  own.  "Tell  him,"  she  said,  "that  I  will  be 
good  and  patient.  That  no  matter  how  bad  his  medi- 
cines taste,  I  will  take  them,  that  no  matter  how  much 
he  hurts  me,  I  will  not  cry  out.  Tell  him  I  wish  to  get 
well  quickly,  so  I  can  walk  around,  and  do  my  work,  and 
be  happy  and  healthy  once  more." 


424  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

"It  is  nothing  organic,"  said  the  doctor.  "It  does 
not  even  need  the  knife.  A  week  in  bed,  some  medicine, 
and  she  can  go  home  as  well  as  ever." 

This  was  pleasing  news  to  Nat-ah'-ki,  when  she  came 
to  her  senses.  The  chloroform  did  not  even  make  her 
ill,  and  she  was  as  cheerful  as  a  lark  from  morning  until 
night.  The  Sisters  and  nurses  were  always  coming  in 
to  talk  and  joke  with  her,  and  when  I  was  not  on  hand  to 
interpret,  they  still  seemed  to  understand  one  another, 
Nat-ah'-ki  in  some  way  making  her  thoughts  known. 
One  could  hear  her  cheery  laughter  ringing  out  of  the 
room  and  down  the  hall  at  almost  any  hour  of  day. 

"Never  in  my  life,"  said  the  Sister  Superior,  "have 
I  known  such  another  cheerful,  innocent,  happy  woman. 
You  are  a  lucky  man,  sir,  to  have  such  a  wife." 

Then  came  the  happy  day  when  we  could  set  out  for 
home  again.  We  went,  and  for  a  long  time  Nat-ah'-ki 
talked  of  the  wonderful  things  she  had  seen.  Her 
faith  in  the  Blackfoot  men  and  women  doctors  was 
shattered,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  say  so.  She  told 
of  the  wonderful  way  in  which  her  doctor  had  cut  patients 
in  the  hospital  and  made  them  well;  of  his  wonderful 
lightning-lamp  (X-ray),  with  which  one's  bones,  the 
whole  skeleton,  could  be  seen  through  the  flesh.  The 
whole  tribe  became  interested  and  came  from  far  and 
near  to  listen.  After  that,  many  a  suffering  one  went  to 
the  great  hospital  and  to  her  doctor,  no  matter  what 
their  ailment,  in  full  faith  that  they  would  be  cured. 
On  our  homeward  way,  I  remember,  we  saw  a  man 
and  two  women  loading  a  hay  wagon,  the  man  on  top  of 
the  load,  the  women  sturdily  pitching  up  great  forkfuls 
of  hay  to  him,  regardless  of  the  extreme  heat  of  the  day. 
The  little  woman  was  astonished,  shocked.  "I  did  not 
think,"  she  said,  "that  white  men  would  so  abuse  their 


LATER  YEARS  435 

women.  A  Blackfoot  would  not  be  so  cruel.  I  begin 
to  think  that  white  women  have  a  much  harder  time 
than  we  do." 

"You  are  right,"  I  told  her,  "most  poor  white  women 
are  slaves;  they  have  to  get  up  at  three  or  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  cook  three  meals  a  day,  make,  mend, 
and  wash  their  children's  clothes,  scrub  floors,  work  in 
the  garden,  and  when  night  comes  they  have  hardly 
strength  left  to  crawl  to  bed.  Do  you  think  you  could 
do  all  that?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  could  not.  I  wonder  if  that  is 
not  why  some  white  women  so  dislike  us,  because  they 
have  to  work  so  dreadfully  hard,  while  we  have  so  much 
time  to  rest,  or  go  visiting,  or  ride  around  here  and  there 
on  the  beautiful  plains.  Surely  our  life  is  happier  than 
theirs,  and  you,  oh,  lucky  was  the  day  when  you  chose 
me  to  be  your  little  woman." 

The  years  passed  happily  for  Nat-ah'-ki  and  me.  We 
had  a  growing  bunch  of  cattle  which  were  rounded-up 
with  the  other  Reservation  stock  twice  a  year.  I 
built  two  small  irrigating  ditches  and  raised  some  hay. 
There  was  little  work  to  do,  and  we  made  a  trip  some- 
where every  autumn,  up  into  the  Rockies  with  friends, 
cr  took  a  jaunt  by  rail  to  some  distant  point.  Some- 
times we  would  take  a  skiff  and  idly  drift  and  camp  along 
the  Missouri  for  three  or  four  hundred  miles  below  Fort 
Benton,  returning  home  by  rail.  I  think  that  we  en- 
joyed the  water  trips  the  best.  The  shifting,  boiling 
flood,  the  weird  cliffs,  the  beautifully  timbered,  silent 
valley  had  a  peculiar  fascination  for  us  such  as  no  place 
in  the  great  mountains  possessed.  It  was  during  one  of 
these  river  trips  that  Nat-ah'-ki  began  to  complain  of 
sharp  pain  in  the  tips  of  her  right  hand  fingers.  "  It  is 


426  MY  LIFE  AS  AN  INDIAN 

nothing  but  rheumatism,"  I  said,  "and  will  soon  pass 
away." 

But  I  was  wrong.  The  pain  grew  worse,  and  abandon- 
ing our  boat  at  the  mouth  of  Milk  River,  we  took  the 
first  train  for  the  city  where  our  doctor  lived,  and  once 
more  found  ourselves  in  the  hospital,  in  the  very  same 
room;  the  same  good  Sisters  and  nurses  surrounding 
Nat-ah'-ki  and  trying  to  relieve  her  of  the  pain,  which 
was  now  excruciating.  The  doctor  came,  felt  her  pulse, 
got  out  his  stethoscope  and  moved  it  from  place  to 
place  until,  at  last,  it  stopped  at  a  point  at  the  right  side 
of  the  neck,  close  to  the  collar  bone.  There  he  listened 
long,  and  I  began  to  feel  alarmed.  "  It  is  not  rheuma- 
tism," I  said  to  myself.  "  Something  is  wrong  with  her 
heart." 

The  doctor  gave  some  directions  to  the  nurse;  then 
turning  to  Nat-ah'-ki  he  said,  "Take  courage,  little 
friend,  we'll  pull  you  through  all  right." 

Nat-ah'-ki  smiled.  Then  she  grew  drowsy  under  the 
influence  of  an  opiate ;  and  we  left  the  room. 

"Well,  old  man,"  said  the  doctor,  "this  time  I  can 
do  little.  She  may  live  a  year,  but  I  doubt  it." 

For  eleven  months  we  all  did  what  we  could,  and  then 
one  day,  my  faithful,  loving,  tender-hearted  little  woman 
passed  away,  and  left  me.  By  day  I  think  about  her, 
at  night  I  dream  of  her.  I  wish  that  I  had  that  faith 
which  teaches  us  that  we  will  meet  again  on  the  other 
shore.  But  all  looks  very  dark  to  me. 


(Cbe  nitoctjfi&e  prrif* 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
V  .  8  .  A 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRAR    FAC  LITY 


AA      000005915    4 


